


Under Wraps

by elle2706, iforgetlikeanelephant



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: (I'm not actually sure what to put for the pairing because Frank is a bio girl but actually a boy), Multi, cross-dressing, deals with issues of transgender/transexualism, violence in the form of a short scuffle at a high school game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle2706/pseuds/elle2706, https://archiveofourown.org/users/iforgetlikeanelephant/pseuds/iforgetlikeanelephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting expelled from Queen of Peace, Frank realizes that this could be the best thing to ever happen to him and formulates a plan. A plan to use his new life at his new school as an opportunity to cross-dress, full-time as the boy he knows he is, unbeknownst to the students and administration of Belleville High School.<br/>It’s a simple plan until he meets Gerard Way and his group of friends. Suddenly friendship and love make his secret harder to keep, but is he willing to risk the happiness he’s found in his disguise? Or are the consequences and trials worth keeping everything under wraps?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before Belleville High School/ AKA The Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> my co-author, elle2706 on LiveJournal, doesn't have an AO3 account so this is my shout out to her! She's been lovely to work with :D

Despite the gross and vicious rumors that circulated during the tail-end of Frank’s enrollment at Queen of Peace Private School (and Frank fully believes echoes of the rumors still befall the occasional ear even after he was kicked out), Frances Iero is not a woman-hater or brain damaged or _confused._ Fuck that shit.

Frank can’t say when was the exact moment he knew he was a boy in the wrong body. It was always a knowing inside of him, a niggling doubt that something was wrong. That no, he did not want the skirts and dresses that plagued him until he got a say in his wardrobe choices, and no, he really did not identify with the Disney Princesses and wanted to pretend to be one when the neighborhood girls would come over to play. _No,_ he could wait for his breasts, butt, and child-bearing hips to develop, he could wait all eternity long because having them was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

And it wasn’t long for that knowing to seamlessly shift into a yearning to be a boy, in some way or form. Which was why one Spring Break weekend, a fourteen-year old Frank pocketed his saved birthday card and Christmas money before leaving his house and taking the bus to the closest Goodwill he could find on Google. Sweat started to prickle his skin even though a rush of cool air greeted him as he entered the store. The store was practically empty and he could feel his cheeks flush with excitement as he walked towards the men’s section of the big and practically empty store. He took his time picking his selection and felt like a thief sneaking contraband into the fitting room when he went in to try on five pairs of pants (finding jeans in girl’s sizes was hard enough for his size and frame, so Frank was resigned to find a good fit and spend a part of his evening hemming the length of his new pants).

And despite the nervous warning of his imaginative mind, no one jumped out of the rack of men’s small through medium t-shirts pointing out a finger and hissing _crossdresser!!_ Nor did the tall, black woman at the register even glance twice at his selection as she bopped her head to whatever music was pouring from her oversized headphones as she rang his purchases up.

And after a quick stop at a randomly selected hairdresser, Frank was back home breathing a sigh of relief that his mom’s car was not in the driveway. Thirty minutes later, Frank stood in front of his vanity mirror from the top of his bed so that he could get a full length view of himself. A soft _oh_ passed his lips.

His dark brown hair was now no longer than past his ears, his hair gained some length and scruffiness the closer it came to his face, but stayed short by inches the closer to the nape of his neck his hair got. It was a purposefully androgynous look, a cut that he could claim went horribly wrong when his mom’s and friends from school questioned him about where his shoulder length hair went. And it was an androgynous look that veered delightfully to male with the right clothes on to tip the balance.

The four tanks tops his mom had bought on sale from Wal-mart perfectly flattened the very small breasts he already had poking out, and the large black t-shirt under the thin, red plaid over-shirt hung from his frame without following a single one of his developing curves. The jeans he settled for still needed the help of a simple black belt to fit just right and they were ridiculously baggy at the butt of his pants; he had no ass and his hips were lost in the folds of his clothes, and it was just right.

Frank bounced on the bed a couple of times, dancing to the Souls blaring from his stereo, happiness bursting through him. Later tonight, he thought, he’d go to that show he’d been waiting for months for in these clothes and see just how far he could get away with this. Sure, he wouldn’t win the most masculine award anytime soon, but people would think twice, maybe even three times, before calling him a girl, and--

“Frances?” His mother’s voice sliced through the music and his joy like a blade.

“Mom, I thought - when did you?” He tried to say but the wide and confused gaze from his mother strangled the words. He winced when she emitted a gasp after really looking at his new hairstyle.

“Frances, what happened to your hair? And... what’s with the clothes?” A shaky smile fluttered on his mother’s face, as if she were hesitating at the punchline of a joke that she didn’t really find funny.

Instead of answering the question, Frank bought himself time by getting off the bed and powering off his stereo, and immediately regretted doing so because the silence in the room was heavy and interrogating in nature.

His mother waited. Frank cleared his throat, trying to think of some excuse but what blurted out was, “this is who I am, mom.”

“This?” Linda Iero’s face was still clouded in confusion, and Frank realized his mother’s eyes were looking past his shoulder. His heart clenched with hurt and shame that started to hone into anger, and his anger only grew when he felt the sting of tears at the back of eyes.

“Yes, this.” Frank motioned towards himself with his hand.

“Oh, Frances,” another weak smile, “I always knew you were a tomboy but—”

“No, mom!” Frank yelled so forcefully his mother recoiled and finally made eye contact with Frank, “I am not a tomboy! I am not a girl who likes to do boyish things, Goddammit. I am a boy! A boy, mom, _this_ is what I am, and please, please don’t tell me I’m wrong because that’s how I’ve felt in this body ever since I can remember.” Warm tears ran down his face quickly and Frank closed his eyes to try and force them back. “Please, mom, please …”

He kept his eyes closed even as he heard the soft sound of footsteps walking towards him. They remained closed even as he muffled his sobs on his mother’s shoulder when she tugged him in for a strong embrace.

“Sh-sh, Frances.”

“Please, mom, please,” Frank didn’t know what exactly he was pleading for but he couldn’t stop the words from escaping his mouth.

“It’s okay. I know, I know. It’s going to be hard, but we’ll talk about that later. Just settle, shhh.” They slowly settled onto Frank’s bed, Frank leaning, practically cradled in the crook of his mother’s arm, and he let himself cry his fears and guilt and confusion until all he could feel was a little bit of hope.

*****

It was weird letting someone else know something secret, something you’ve known since forever but could never actually say the words. Even if that person was someone as amazing as his mom.

Linda Iero was Frank’s favorite person in the entire world. Granted most teenagers found their parents their least favorite of people, but ever since Frank’s father left years and years ago to pursue a life without Frank and his mother, it’s always been just the two of them. And they treasured that bond and strengthened it with love and respect.

Frank could only hope as he followed his frowning mother out his bedroom that that bond was strong enough for this.

They talked in the living room for hours, the curtains were still drawn aside even though nighttime had already fallen. Frank spoke for the most part, sometimes looking at his mom directly, other times fiddling with a button on the sleeve of the over-shirt he still had on; his mom hadn’t made him change from his boy clothes. Mrs. Iero listened, interrupted with a question or two sometimes, but for the most part allowed her Frances to let loose everything she had been storing up, even if some of it was incoherent and was more of a rant about sexuality.

“It’s going to be hard, Frances.” Linda finally said when there was a lull in the conversation.

“I know, mom. But like I told you, I didn’t choose to feel this way. And...it gets a bit weirder because I’m a boy in a girl’s body who might … uh, like boys?” The button Frank kept twisting on his sleeve finally came loose from its thread. He frowned at it.

Linda expelled a sigh. “Well, that certainly makes a complicated situation just a little bit more complicated doesn’t it?” There was a slight teasing note to her voice.

Frank gave a nod and said, “just a bit.”

Linda reached over to hug Frank breathing out an “I love you. We’ll figure this out,” before heading to the kitchen and preparing a late dinner.

Yea, _favorite_ person in the world.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Trouble, when it did find Frank, did not come in the hands of strangers, but rather from a friend.  
One Saturday, a bit more than a year after the talk in the living room with his mother, as Frank was wiggling into a chest binder he created out of panty hose (not the most comfortable fit and man he couldn’t wait till he raised enough money for an honest to God binder made of breathable material), the doorbell rang. Frank’s mother was working her graveyard shift at the Dirty Spoon Diner, so Frank was on his own for dinner.

_Pizza_! Frank thought and then cursed when he couldn’t find his band t-shirt and the doorbell rang twice more incessantly.

“Hold, the fuck up!” Frank yelled as he pulled on a bathrobe and jogged towards the door and threw the door open. “Woah, you guys deliver fast! Do you have change for—” Leslie stood before him with a large Coach purse practically bursting with what looked the whole chip and candy section of a 7-11.

“Hey, Frances. Sorry for dropping by but I was bored at home and I remembered you complaining about having nothing to do this weekend to do, so I decided to surprise you with a girl’s-night-in-chick-flick-action-adventure-double-feature,” Leslie jiggled her Coach bag.

Frank didn’t know whether to invite his oldest friend in or slam the door in her face. He did remember telling Leslie yesterday that his Saturday looked fraught with boredom, but that was _yesterday,_ now Frank had a date with a moshpit. And oh God, he was in his binder with only a cotton bathrobe covering him.

“Frances, can I come in?”

“Uhm, no? I mean, yea. Wait,” Frank clutched his bathrobe closed with a steel grip. Leslie’s smile was lost in confusion and she motioned to come in. Frank could only step aside and tried to calm his frantic heart.

He watched Leslie set her bag on the couch and remembered her small, smaller than even him, and loud when they met years ago in a classroom a week into first grade. Leslie was a long time friend, one who while amazingly stubborn, could also be gentle and understanding. If there was anyone else other than his mother he would choose to tell it would be his best friend. He hesitated for a second before saying:

“Can I tell you something, Lee?”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Leslie left his house that Saturday after the first chick-flick, which neither of them paid any attention to, without her customary goodbye hug and with her mouth set in small line. Frank didn’t tell his mother why he was irritable most of the weekend, instead he closed himself in his room and deleted a thousand unsent text messages on his cellphone to Leslie. She just needs time, Frank thought.

Monday morning at eight o’clock Frank walked into first period biology and found Leslie’s chair empty. He felt the weight of a stare on him and turned up to find his friends, Bethany and Tyler, in their seats. Beth quickly averted her gaze and leaned in to quickly whisper something into Tyler’s ear, he wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something unpleasant.

Leslie arrived to Biology five minutes before the bell would ring with an excused note in hand. Mrs. Flattery gave Leslie a wave of her hand after reading the note and Leslie exited the classroom once more without sparing one glance at Frank.

Three chimes signaled the end of class and Frank did not even wait for Tyler and Bethany to leave first. He was out the door before the rest and was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ms. Iero, come with me to my office, please.” The Headmaster of Queen of Peace, Father Thomas, was a tall, stern figure whose blue eyes glared disapprovingly at Frank.

Frank glared back and followed Father Thomas.

*****

It was a sin to rebel against the design and role God gave his creation was Father Thomas’s point. And although Father Thomas of the wide shoulders and stern face kind of scared Frank, he couldn’t help scoffing out loud at hearing him.

“Ms. Iero, the school counselor has opened her schedule for eleven p.m. at which time you will meet up with her today,” Father Thomas said.

“No,” Frank replied immediately, staring at the agonized, life-sized Christ figure on a crucifix on the wall behind Father Thomas. It was the only decoration on any of the walls of Father Thomas’s office, “I don’t need counseling because there isn’t anything wrong with me except being born in the wrong body. So unless this counselor is going to help me transition I don’t need to see her.”

Father Thomas called his mother. 

******

“ My _son_ does not need counseling, Father Thomas.” Frank’s mother was livid. Pretty brown eyes narrowed and bright with anger.

“You condone this atrocity, Mrs. Iero?” Father Thomas’s voice did not raise in volume no matter how much Frank’s mother did. It remained measured and clipped.

“I support him for what he knows is true, no matter the difficulty. And I will not force him to go to any kind of counseling session he does not feel a need to go to.”

“Nothing I say will convince you otherwise to do the right thing, Mrs. Iero?”

“Not a thing.”

“Then I regret to inform you that after this semester is over, Frank will not be permitted to return to this school. Our caliber and integrity cannot be put to risk by allowing your daughter to continue her enrollment at Queen of Peace.”  
“What?” Linda Iero smacked a hand onto Father Thomas’s desk, face dark with anger and jaw clenched. Frank was fisting his own hands in his chair.

“Calm yourself, Mrs. Iero.”

She only delivered a scathing glare at Father Thomas that did nothing in breaking his stoic expression, “My son will be leaving with me today, Father Thomas. Tomorrow he will return to his classes, but if anything is to happen to him during his stay here, I _will_ deliver wrath and publicity to this establishment that will soil your precious integrity, you hear?”

“We do not condone violence, Mrs. Iero, inasmuch as we do not condone France’s behavior.” 

“Come on, Frank.”

******

After that day in Father Thomas’s office, it took Frank a while to see the bright side of anything. It took Frank’s absence the rest of the day for the rumors and whispers to incubate like a man-eating virus before traveling throughout the whole student body, all three thousand four hundred seventy two of them.

He was treated like a leper: avoided during classes and lunch, and on the walk to and from classes he was given at least two feet of space in the hallways. But the whispers of _Faggy Frances_ and laughter at his expense always reached his ears no matter the space given.

But nobody touched him and after finding his bicycle tires slashed one day after school, his mother was resolute on given him ride to and from school.

Frank didn’t go out in his boy clothes until two weeks into summer. Despite his paranoia, no one from school had followed him as he took a bus downtown to visit his favorite music store. As he mindlessly strummed a couple of chords from a beauty of Fender, thinking about betrayal and back-stabbing bitches named Leslie and what exactly would happen in his new school.

Suddenly, he stopped playing and snapped his head up in realization. An idea, a plan starting to form in his mind... one that just might work with ...

A new school meant a new life and new people. People who wouldn’t know more about him than what he decided to show. So if he decided to dress as a boy and essentially have everyone in his new school believe he was a boy, then they’d have to take his word for it because who would tell them differently? 

It’d have to be a secret, of course, because once people know you have boobs and a vagina, apparently you can never be taken seriously as a guy again. And the kind of people who would understand, he learned, are few and far between; he highly doubted he’d find any of the kind in high school, he thought bitterly.

“Dude, are you gonna play that because I’ve been eyeing that baby since I got here.” A hyper voice broke his thoughts and Frank finally noticed a tall boy fidgeting and eyeing the Fender with great interest.

“Yea, sure, here.” After a guitar exchange, Frank walked out of the store, smiling his first genuine smile in months as he tried to figure out the right way to explain this plan to his mother.


	2. August

Frank Iero was not as confident as he thought he would be as he walked through the main entrance doors of his new school, Belleville High. That was in no small part due to the fact that the tri-top chest binder with the “ _medical industry grade 70% nylon and 30% spandex!_ ” that Frank had ordered online a month ago did not arrive in its promised two to three weeks delivery time. An angry phone call to the company he ordered the binder from (that had to be intervened by his more cool-headed mother) settled the matter of a rush delivery, but it still left Frank the weekend before school started without a tri-top chest binder that proclaimed it was “practically invisible under all types of clothing and will provide you with all-day security and confidence in your appearance!” 

And if there was anything Frank Iero, fifteen-year-old, self-identified man in a woman’s body (okay, maybe not _woman_ , he was still going through puberty, Jesus Christ, but definitely female in anatomy) needed more of it was confidence that his plan would work.

Frank’s grip on his backpack’s shoulder strap tightened as his gaze roved over the students who idled, walked, pushed, and settled into groups all across the school hallways. He took a calming breath, felt the reassuring compression of his homemade, bike shorts binder with the inhale. Relaxing his body into a slouch, he joined the swell of students entering the hallway to his right. He dodged and weaved through flailing hands and roaming packs of girls. For once, he was thankful of his short stature as he deftly ducked under a flying backpack and made it to the end of the hall and right in front of the main office in the two minutes it took for the first bell to ring.

The secretary at the desk smiled at him as he shut the office door behind him, “If you want a schedule change, I’m afraid you’ll have to come after school, we are just too busy right now.”

Frank shook his head and gulped quickly to clear his suddenly sticky throat. “I’m actually new here and just need my schedule.” He said in a voice that sounded clear and deep and was the product of a whole summer of practice.

“Oh! Well, just give me your name and I’ll print it right out for you.”

Frank wiped a sweaty palm on his jeans before placing it on the lip of the desk, “It’s Frances Iero.”

There was the rapid tap dance sound of computer keys followed by a thoughtful _hmmm_ from the secretary. She gazed up at Frank and gave a quick scan, taking in his blank expression, short, scruffy brown hair and his torso dressed in a loose white long sleeved shirt under a baggy steel-gray cardigan vest. It was an observant gaze that had Frank holding onto his breath. Finally, she said, “ Frances, with an ‘e’ is it?”

Frank barked out a laugh and aimed a shy, embarrassed smile at the woman before him. “Jeez, I thought you were trying to find a good way to tell me I wasn’t enrolled here from the way you were looking at me.” ‘ _Jeez’? Really, Frank … the point is to_ not _sound like a girl. Might want to cut it back a little._ Frank cleared his throat again. “Yea, it’s with an ‘e’. I know, I know, that’s the feminine way of spelling Francis, but story goes mom was too exhausted and drugged up to know one from the other and dad wasn’t around to tell her otherwise, ya know? S’why I like to be called Frank, Miss--?”

“Oh, Stratta, Ms.Stratta, dear” she replied and gave a sympathetic smile, “sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean to embarrass you like that.” Frank waved away her apology and kept his smile shy as she got up from her seat. “Let me just get you that schedule,” she said as she walked away.  
Before Frank could indulge in a bit of mental victory dancing, the door right behind Ms. Stratta’s desk opened suddenly. “No, we can not have this!” An emphatic, male voice escaped out the open door and was followed by smartly dressed man in a black suit accessorized with a wide, neon pink tie, Frank assumed he was the owner of the emphatic voice if his emphatic hand gestures were any indication. Seconds later, a beanpole of a teenage boy with black, thick framed glasses followed the man. A small twitch at the corner of the boy’s mouth hinted at a smile while the rest of his face was a study of blank and calm composure.  
Still waters, was Frank’s first thought after studying the boy and he tuned in for the rest of Emphatic-Man’s ramble.

“When I said, no, _decreed,_ that no Way will ever set forth a toe in a home ec classroom in my school again, I meant it!” He jabbed a rigid forefinger up at the ceiling as if daring an objection from God, but none came.

Instead, another man, this one with sideburns and neatly combed-back, brown hair stepped out of the same office. He was as professionally dressed as Emphatic-Man, only his suit was brown and his tie was a more conventional navy blue.

“Principal Wentz, we can’t change each and every student’s schedule because of their unwillingness to broaden their horizons and attempt a new skill that could potentially become a new hobby.”

Principal Wentz snorted, “Do you hear yourself, Stump?”

Stump chose to ignore Wentz’s quip and said, “Plus, Mikey needs an elective and home ec is the only class that will fit his schedule that still has room for students.”

“But Patrick,” Principal Wentz’s eyes widened in a dramatic portrayal of trauma. “You’ve only been VP for a year; you weren’t here during the time the other Way, _his_ brother, was placed in home ec. Patrick … he almost sewed a student’s finger to some fabric. Can you imagine how that month’s PTA meeting went?”

Frank couldn’t help but notice the stealthy hand Mikey used to hide his small smile.

Vice Principal Stump was unfazed by Wentz’s appeal. “He passed the class, Wentz.”

“Barely,” Principal Wentz muttered.

“I stand by what I say, Wentz. Mikey will keep the same schedule. If he is as bad at home economics you say he is, it’d be even more important to educate him to better himself. As an educator, don’t you agree this is best for Mikey, Principal?” Vice Principal Stump’s voice was sincere and solid.

A short silence hung between the trio.

Finally Principal Wentz said, “You’re naivety will befall disaster on our students and school, Stump. And when that happens, I will tell you I told you so, repeatedly.”

Frank coughed out a chuckle beneath his breath at Wentz’s grave tone. Maybe this school won’t be so bad with these two running it.

At the sound of high heels clipping along the floor, Frank turned back to see the Miss Stratta return, hair a bit frazzled and a small, dark smudge across the bridge of her nose. “Sorry it took so long, Frank. The printer jammed.” She handed him a fingerprint smudged schedule. “Have a great first day.” She called out as Frank went out of the office in search of his first class.

_Maybe._  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

His last class of the day, Library Aid, was simple enough as far as class curriculum went: shelf books for fifty minutes of class. Simple enough, though it seemed Frank was the only one in his class of eleven students remotely interested in actually doing the work because as soon as the librarian left to his office, after helpfully pointing at a rack of books and saying, “shelf”, they remained seated at their tables and distracted themselves with either chatter or their cell phones.  
The book lover in Frank frowned disapprovingly within him.

As Frank shelved, he thought about what he knew about his school. 1) The classes blew as much as they did in Queen of Peace, even if the curriculum was a little easier than what he was used to. 2) The restroom nearest the gym was not the best one to do his business in, especially since it’s been marked jock territory, if the packs of masculine beef-heads that hang around their practically every second between classes was any indication. 3) Making any kind of friend seemed impossible with all of them, even the freshmen, already settled into their groups.

And after being the social leper at Queen, Frank was not having playing the lone wolf during his high school career. Which was where Michael Way came in. Frank recognized the tall, skinny kid from the main office that morning as soon he spotted him in first period Chemistry, and second period Geometry, and third period English, _and_ fifth period World History. Frank likes to think sharing four classes with Michael Way was Fate’s way of hinting _there’s your friend, bro._ And besides, even without Fate dropping a hint, from Mikey’s crappy, obviously straightened scene hair and Iron Maiden t-shirt Frank knew he’d have the best chance of being Mikey’s friend.

Frank paused in the middle of shelving a book, a frown forming as he firmly reminded himself that any friend he made in high school would be to stave off loneliness, purely.

_Trust no one._

He slid the book in place, bent to pick up the stack of books from the floor, and tried to shake off the unpleasant feeling curling in his stomach. _‘Sides, Frank thought, what I really need is some kind of meet-cute to even talk to Mikey._ He chuckled at the thought of meet-cute occurring in real life as he rounded a tall shelf of books and walked right into a body.

Frank wasn’t walking that fast, but their impact was still jarring and the corner of a heavy hardcover jabbed at the other person’s stomach.

“OOF!” The boy expelled, bending over as if he’d just been sucker punched and rubbing his arm on the sore spot on his abdomen . “Uhm, ow?”

Frank’s grip on teetering stack of book tightened, “Fuck, man are you okay?” A straggly, dirty looking curtain of black hair kept Frank from seeing the guy properly, but his mouth was still twisted in a wince.

“Yea, s’kay.” The boy unbent himself to his full height, a good couple of inches ahead of Frank like everyone else in the entire world, and his hair finally gave way to show a face that had Frank give a mental sigh. Like _woah_ the guy was pretty with his pale skin, pert nose and light brown eyes.  
Frank knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. Then he realized that the pretty boy he practically impaled with a hardcover was staring at him, too. Oh, right, he was probably waiting for an apology.

“Sorry, sorry, dude. I wasn’t really checking for incoming traffic when I made that turn, ya know?”

The boy shook his head, “It’s alright. Wasn’t really paying attention, either. Uhm, yea.”

Impulse had Frank sticking his hand out, books dangerously close to falling on the crook of his left arm, “I’m Frank. New inmate to your lovely school.” Frank refused to think about the warmth of the boy’s hand when he returned the handshake.

“Gerard, and welcome, I guess.” His eyes shone with his shy smile.

Their hands disconnected with the ring of the bell.

“We’ll I guess I’ll see you, Gerard.” Frank walked back towards the book rack, completely missing Gerard’s soft response.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next day went much the same way as the first, only this time with a little less nervousness and an _awesome_ tri-top chest binder under a Souls shirt. Frank had yet to make any kind of contact with Mikey, not even eye contact, try as he might. And Fate stopped being kind when all of his class periods with Mikey had an alphabetized seating arrangement.

So there went one plan to integrate himself by proximity.

Frank found Gerard twenty minutes into his last class sitting on the floor near the small, two shelf bookcase housing the graphic novels.

Gerard looked up from his trade-back graphic novel and smiled up at Frank. Frank returned a wide grin and gestured at the comic, “so do you only read comics, or do you read novels too?

A slight frown chased Gerard’s smile and he hugged the comic to his chest, “Comics are a valid form of literature. The quality of the illustrations, even the most cartoonish looking, have—”

Frank held up an apologetic hand and ruined it with a bursting laugh, “Dude, I love comics myself, so no need to have to sell me on that rant.” Frank tilted his head to the side and shrugged, “just wondering if you like to read novels. Stephen King’s my favorite.”

Gerard’s grip relaxed on the graphic novel, “Oh, well, I mainly go by recommendation for novels I guess. Like I don’t mind reading them, but I don’t exactly go looking for them.” He got up from the floor.

“Oh, dude, if a recommendation is what you want, I just finished this book that's all dystopian and shit, really awesome and the ending just had me near tears. I’ll lend it to you if you want, uhm, the next time I see you?” Frank mentally slapped himself up the head, now where did that suggestion come from?

Gerard was unfazed by it though, “Sure, uhm, I didn’t see you around during lunch so does that mean you have B lunch?”

_Gerard was looking for him?_ “No, I have A lunch, but I hate sitting alone in the cafeteria so I just eat my lunch in the pavilion.”

Gerard was staring intently at the comic in his hands, bending it slightly, “Y’know you could join my friends and me during lunch if you want. It’s whatever.”

Frank practically wanted to tackle Gerard into a hug but opted for a more cool, “Sure, dude. I’ll look out for you tomorrow.” And because Frank suddenly felt like he was arranging a date or something his shuffled back a step. “So, I’m going to get back to shelving some books, but yea, laters.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lunch couldn’t come soon enough, with his lunch sack at hand Frank searched for Gerard by the entrance of the cafeteria. A minute later he saw a hand waving frantically at the back of the caf near the giant fridge for the milk cartons.

“Hey,” Frank greeted when he came near the round lunch table, five pair of eyes glanced at him. He did a double-take when he noticed the person seated to Gerard’s right.

“Dude,” Frank pointed a Mikey, “we have four classes together and I saw you at the office when you were trying to change home ec.”

Mikey stared at Frank for a while before saying, “Really? Four classes?”

The boy next to Mikey groaned and punched him lightly on the shoulder, “Way to notice your surroundings, Mikeyway.” He returned his attention to Frank and offered an easy smile, his brown hair was an impressive mass that haloed around his face in curls, “I’m Ray, and Mikey is just oblivious.”

“Fuck you, oblivious,” Mikey retorted and then bit into his sandwich.

The blonde-headed boy on Frank’s left snorted and rolled his blue eyes, “ Don’t deny it, Mikes. Who added salt instead of sugar to the sugar cookies in home ec. yesterday? “

Everyone snickered while Mikey glared at his sandwich. The blonde headed nodded at Frank and said, “ ‘M Bob. Sit down dude, I don’t wanna keep looking up at you.”

Frank took a seat and began removing the contents of his lunch bag.

Gerard was the first to break the short silence, “So are we still on for D&D on Saturday.”

Everyone groaned but Gerard was unfazed and turned towards Frank, “You can join too if you want, Frank.”

Frank gulped down his bite of PB&J before revealing, “Uhm, I’ve never played Dungeons and Dragons before actually.”

A louder groan resounded from the table. “Run, Frank, run while you still have the chance,” Ray implored. But it was too late, Frank saw a spark gleam in Gerard’s earnest eyes and a full fledge smile played on his lips.

Frank couldn’t help his own smile in return, not just because of Gerard, but looking at the group of possible friends made him feel more relaxed than he’d felt in a long time.

Despite, the feeling, though, a small voice warned at the back of Frank’s mind.  
 _Trust no one._


	3. September

“Home Ec is trying to kill me,” Mikey Way said in lieu of a greeting as he set his lunch tray down on the round table.

Frank giggled as he wrapped an arm around Mikey’s neck and leaned in to say in a mock conspiratorial tone, “What was it this time Mikey? Rogue sewing machine or salt masquerading as sugar again?” Frank barely caught himself from falling from his chair after Mikey pushed him away.

“What’s with the cut on your cheek?” Gerard asked over Ray’s braying laughter.

Mikey wiped at the thin cut across his right cheek before muttering, “another pyrex dish exploded.”

There was a collective groan over the table, except from Frank because he couldn’t help another giggling fit. It wasn’t like he was trying to be an asshole, but isn’t there a saying about laughter in the face of misfortune or some crap like that? Except now _both_ Way brothers were sorta glaring at him so he stifled it as best he could.

Frank quickly rifled through his backpack and with a triumphant ah-ha! passed Mikey a piece of plastic. “Batman Band-aid?” Frank offered in apologetic treaty.

Mikey took the band-aid with a slight smile that clearly meant he was forgiven, but Gerard only stared at him for a while with a wondering look that had Frank fighting back an uncomfortable squirm. Before Frank could ask what Gerard’s deal was, Mikey nudged Gerard and asked him with help putting the band-aid on.

“ _How_ many deceased pyrex dishes is that now?” Bob asked.

“Like ten, I think,” Ray said.

“Three,” Mikey stated with quiet dignity that was ruined a bit by the Batman logo that was plastered on his cheek. 

Gerard gave his brother a sympathetic pat, “been there, bro.” Mikey only moved his peas around with a listless sway of his spork.

“And no luck with that Alicia girl?” Ray asked. Mikey stopped rearranging his peas long enough to glance across the room, to where Alicia Simmons sat laughing a brilliant smile that had Mikey infatuated since day one of Home Ec.

“Nah,” Mikey said and Gerard leaned in for another sympathetic pat.

The group shifted their attention from Mikey to give him his moment of sullenness and chatted about the boring reality of school and the awesome possibilities outside of school. Ten minutes before the bell was due to ring, Frank was pulled away from listening to Gerard explaining a comic idea inspired by Shroedinger’s Cat by a tap on his shoulder.

Jamia smiled at him as he turned around and handed him a packet of paper. “You left so fast from Geometry that you forgot your review on your desk.”

“Oh you know me, can’t get away from that class fast enough,” Frank took the review from her, “but thanks so much Mia, tomorrow’s test would have _really_ bombed without this.”

Jamia waved away Frank’s gratefulness but not without a little red staining her cheeks, “Ah, it’s no big, I was going to pass it on in Library Aid, but then I remembered that I have a doctor’s appointment after lunch so …” Jamia’s blush only spread wider as she realized she was rambling a bit, and Frank only found her more adorable.

“Ah, Library Aid is going to be less fun, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure! See you, Frank.” Jamia walked away in quick steps. Frank turned back to see four pair of eyes looking at him intently; everyone was smiling … well except for Gee.

Ray was the first to ask, “who’s she?” 

Frank shrugged, “Met Jamia in Library-Aid. She’s pretty cool and turned out we had a couple more classes. She’s in Geo and English with us, Mikey.”

Mikey nodded, “First row, right?”

“Yup, that’s her. Wicked smart, but she’s cool.” Jamia had turned up in Library Aid three days after school started with a new schedule and a star in Frank’s personal record of approval when she immediately started shelving books along with him on her first day. It didn’t take long for them to become friends after many conversations between the stacks. He wasn’t lying when he said Library Aid was going to suck without her around, especially since Gerard had stopped heading to the library recently.

The bell rang.

“Come on, Pyrex-Destroyer. Education beckons!” Frank said.

“I gotta get out of that class, “ Mikey muttered.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Only Library Aid did not suck so much that day after all, because ten minutes into the class, Frank found Gerard by the young adult novels sketching on his notebook.

“ ‘Sup, Frank.” Gerard said.

“Hey. So, I didn’t really get what you were talking about Schroedinger’s Cat.” Frank said, lying down his pile of books on the floor.

****

Frank didn’t shelf more than two books that period.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Frank was in his Keyboarding class when, what he and the rest of the gang would later call “The Great Belleville High Fire”, began with the piercing warning of the fire alarm. Frank, like the rest of his classmates and his teacher, made annoyed noises at the thought of another fire drill.

Frank joined the exodus of students outside the cool September air and immediately started looking around for a sign of any of the guys amongst the growing mass of students.

“Didya hear? This ain’t a drill. A class is actually burning,” Frank heard the excited voice of a nearby student say to her wide-eyed friends. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the obvious rumor. “No, really. Some home economics class is burning up because of some oil fire or gas explosion or somethin’,” Frank felt the bottom of his stomach plummet.

_Shit!_

He pushed past students as scrambled towards the direction of the Home Ec wing, and cursed some more when he saw dark smoke escaping from the open doors of the hallway. As he got closer he saw Gerard straining against what looked like the iron bar of Bob’s arms around him. Ray was nearby wringing his hands and staring hopefully at the Home Ec hallway.

“But he might still be in there. Fuck, Bob, lemme go!” Gerard looked frantic and half crazed.

Frank did what he knew his mother would do if he she were here. He cupped Gerard’s face with his hands and forced him to look down at him and said in a clear, gentle voice, “Gee, you have to calm down. Mikey will be fine, and you being like this isn’t helping anybody. Calm down, please, Gee.” 

Gerard stopped struggling, “But—”

“There! There he is!” Ray yelled.

In unison, they all snapped their heads to where Ray was pointing and Frank expelled a relieved sigh at the sight of Mikey walking towards them from a couple hallway exits over. Gerard speed-walked towards Mikey and upon reaching him started checking for third degree burns.

Mikey slapped Gerard’s prodding hands away, “ ‘m fine, Gerard.”

Frank couldn’t immediately put his finger on it, but there was something different about Mikey Way and it wasn’t the smudged glasses or his slightly burned eyebrows. Then he realized ... _is, holy shit, Mikey Way was full on smiling._ Like a _beaming_ kind of smile.

“Dude, what’s with the smile? You almost burned down the whole school.” Bob said.

“Oh God,” Gerard said, “ I have an arsonist for a baby brother!”

“It isn’t anything that diabolical, Gee.” Mikey said with a roll of his eyes, which only looked more hilarious with his singed eyebrows. “Alicia just gave me her number that’s all.”

A small silence.

“Before or _after_ the fire?” Frank asked.

“Just now, after we got out.”

“Oh god, my baby brother’s caught the interest of an arsonist!” Gerard slapped a hand over his eyes.

Before Mikey could reply a bellowing voice shouted nearby. “Everybody move towards the science hallway exits! We need to give the fire response room to come in, students. Everyone move out!” Vice Principal Stump followed his directions with precise hand movements.

He stopped with his shouting when noticed Mikey and walked towards him. “Mr. Way, come see me after school. We really need to discuss your schedule for this semester.”

“I. Told. You. So.” Came the voice of Principal Wentz, projected from a megaphone, yards away.

Vice Principal clenched his jaw and said, “After school, Mr. Way.”

Mikey nodded and they all watched Vice Principal Stump resume directing students away from the Home Ec wing.

“Best day ever,” Mikey way said.

Gerard heaved a put-upon sigh and leaned against Frank, body heavy and warm. Frank didn’t complain, and he couldn’t find a reason to disagree with Mikey either. Instead he asked, “So what’s the story on the fire?”

Mikey slid his glasses back up his nose before clearing his throat, “So today’s lesson in Home Ec was on baking bread, like from scratch, right? Anyway, I was paired up with Alicia for the project which probably made me a bit distracted …”

The piercing alarm of the approaching fire truck provided the perfect background music for Mikey’s tale of “The Great Belleville High Fire”, and Gerard was an adequate space heater for a slightly chilly September day. Frank couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so happy in school of all places.


	4. October

No matter how many times Frank’s already been in Gerard’s basement after school or during the weekends, he still can’t get totally used to the smell of the place. It’s not offensive exactly, it’s a comforting smell of the inside of a art supply closet mixed with a the not-so-subtle scent of unwashed boy. It’s distinctly _Gerard_ only amplified by a million.

Frank smushes his face against a pillow as he lies flopped belly down on Gerard’s bed waiting for his turn at Mario Kart. He’s not in a hurry to play though; it’s pretty hilarious watching Gerard’s face twists into a pout each time he loses his first place position during each round.

The basement door clicks open and Mikey walks down the steps.

“How was the date?” Gerard asks eyes looking at Mikey while his Princess Peach and Daisy drive off a cliff.

“Good, but look at this, guys,” Mikey flashes an unremarkable piece of paper that looks like a flyer. “Rocky Horror at the Galaxy theater!”

The game is paused instantly and Gerard hops to his feet and he snatches the flyer from Mikey’s hand. “ Dude! I thought they weren’t doing it this year!”

“Guess they changed their minds.” Mikey said. Frank notes the glint of excitement on Mikey Way’s face which means he’s probably flailing his hands in his mind as much as Gerard is at the moment.

Bob and Ray extend themselves from their sitting positions on the floor and huddle around Gerard to look at the flyer.

“What’s Rocky Horror?” Frank finally asks.

For a second, the only movement is the shift of dust motes in the air.

Gerard’s mouth drops open a little in surprise while Ray and Bob shake their heads dramatically... and Mikey, well the little gleam of excitement is gone from the apple of his eye, and quickly replaced with mocking disappointment. _Well shit,_ Frank thinks.

“Rocky Horror Picture Show?”, Gerard tries again, voice hopeful.

Frank is about to shake his head, but there is a quick flash in his mind’s eye of something familiar and he grabs at the thought. “Oh! that’s a movie isn’t it?”

“You’ve seen it?” Gerard asks

“Nope, just noticed it a couple of times in the movie display at Target.”

Bob pipes in next, arms crossed against his chest, leaning in with a sinister grin playing against the corner of his mouth, “Guys, I think what we have here is a Rocky Horror Picture Show _virgin_.”

Frank’s eyebrows furrow at the v-word, but he feels a small ball of worry for his well being when he notices the guys exchange a silent conversation full of glances and grins, and then in tandem they stare at Frank with mischievous smirks “ t’s decided,” Ray states, “Frank is going with us to the Rocky Horror Picture Show on Halloween.”

The rest of the guys nod and even pantomime banging a gavel while saying, “here! here!”

“That’s my birthday!” Frank can’t help but burst out.

There’s silence again in the room as the group absorbs this new fact in. Another quick exchange of silent conversation, again excluding Frank who is just squirming on the bed, pillow wrapped tightly against his body, and the guys resume smirking jack-o-latern-esque smirks.

“Well, that’s just _perfect._ ” Gerard says. And Frank just really wants to know what the fuck is going on.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Frank was strictly _verboten_ by the guys to not look up any information regarding the Rocky Horror Picture Show. _Seriously Frankie, you’ll only ruin the surprise Gerard had said, you can’t kill the surprise, Frankie._

And Frank was really alright with just letting the matter of the Rocky Horror Picture Show being put to rest until the day of Halloween, but the guys would only needle his curiosity by asking him the most bizarre things.

A week and a half before Halloween, Bob stopped Frank on his way to English, well really he was heading to the handicapped restroom, the only restroom in Belleville High with its own toilet and lock.

“Frank, man, do you have a newspaper, a flashlight, rubber gloves, party hats and noise makers, a bell, and some cards?” Bob ticked off each item with his fingers.

“What?”

Bob smiled, “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just write you a list. Just make sure to collect the stuff in a bag.” Bob clapped his hand against Frank’s back and walked away.

***

Days later, Frank almost choked on a gulp of chocolate milk when Mikey asked whether he would be comfortable wearing a maid’s outfit.

“What?! No! No, skirt! Maid or otherwise,” Frank wasn’t proud the way his voice squeaked a bit at the end of his declaration.

Mikey waited for Gerard to take a gulp of his own carton of milk before saying, “See? Told you, Gee.”

Gerard _did_ choke and spluttered milk onto the table

***

Three days before Halloween:

“Hey Frank?”

“Yea, Ray?”

“How do you feel about makeup?”

“Shut up, Ray.”

“Gotcha.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The day of Halloween was brisk and promised a clear night sky backdrop for a full moon, and Frank was panicking as he arrived home in hurry from school. They had all agreed weeks ago that they would meet up at Frank’s place to celebrate his birthday and get ready (whatever _that_ meant) for Rocky Horror there.

They were due any minute and Frank was looking around making sure no stray picture frame of him pre-high school (which meant _every_ fuckin’ picture, really) was on display.

“Don’t worry Frankie, we got all of them,” His mother’s voice carried over to him from the kitchen where she was preparing his birthday vegetarian lasagna.

“Yea, I know, it’s just—It’s a been a while since anyone’s been here besides you and me, mom.”

The doorbell rang and in an instant the guys walked in, laden with soda pop, chips, game console equipment, and backpacks.

“Where do we put the stuff, Frankie?” Ray asked over the teetering tower of electronics he was carrying.

And at the sound of his name Frankie, his nerves disappeared because yeah, now, even at home, he could be Frankie with no problem.

“Over in my room, this way, guys.” He smiled at his mother, who watched him from the island-top in the kitchen, before leading his friends to his room.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Around ten o’clock, Gerard picked up his beat-up backpack and upturned it on Frank’s bed. It released a jumble of clothes and a red and black makeup bag. Gerard caught Frank’s apprehensive eye and smiled before saying, “time to get ready, guys.”

As the guys reached for their own bags, Gerard handed Frank a pile of clothes that looked innocent enough. “Don’t worry, Frankie. There’s nothing even resembling a skirt in there.” That got a smile out of Frank and he walked to his restroom.

His ensemble wasn’t anything remarkable really, Frank realized as he studied himself before the bathroom mirror. Black slacks, a long sleeved white button down shirt—which Frank kept buttoned to the very top and left a wife beater shirt under it –and a simple, black suit jacket that still had the tag from Goodwill on it.

“Gerard,” Frank called out as he walked out of the bathroom adjusting his sleeves, “am I supposed to look like a butler or—,” Frank lost his capability for speech.

“Yea, pretty much.” Gerard said as he straightened from his bent position tying his worn combat boot on and straightened his maid’s outfit with a firm hand. Frank looked around to see if anyone else was as surprised as he was, but a glance around the room revealed the world had gone bat shit crazy while he was changing.

Bob was splayed on Frank’s bed, flowered dress fitting loose around his frame and one of Frank’s cardigans, a simple white one, draped over his shoulders, converse-clad foot tapping out a rhythm against his bed frame.

Ray was strumming on Frank’s guitar looking a bit like an afroed casanova fully decked in a tuxedo as he was.

Mikey was the least creative with his usual attire only accessorized with a simple golden-sequined hat placed jauntily on his head. Gerard rolled his eyes at Mikey and threw something at his brother, “here, at least put some eyeliner on you, party pooper.”

And Gerard, well, Gerard in a maid outfit with fishnet stockings was doing an odd thing to Frank’s body temperature.

“Frank, come over her so I can put some face paint on you.” Gerard waved an impatient hand to hurry Frank up.

Frank didn’t know where to look as Gerard held his chin firmly with his left hand and started dabbing his face with a makeup sponge.

“Just gotta whiten you up just a little bit, Frankie.” Gerard’s breath feathered on Frank’s face, and Frank didn’t understand why he could feel his stupid face heat up. Suddenly his chin was released and Gerard was walking away from him, briskly calling out, “ Alright guys, we have to go or we’re not going to get good seats.”

“Gee, you want your makeup bag?” Mikey asked.

“Uhm, yea, sure, I’ll need to put lipstick on the ride over to Galaxy.”

As the guys walked out of his house, camel packed with all the crap they brought over, his mother called out to Frank. “Frank, did I just see Gerard wearing a—?”

“Yea, it was a surprise for me too.”

“Huh.”

“Y’know,” Frank said, more to himself than to his mother, “being around Gee doesn’t make me feel like I’m a total weirdo for doing what I do. He makes me feel better.”

Gerard popped his head across through the main doorway, eyes glowing with excitement, “Frank! Hurry up!”

“Wish me luck, mom.” Frank muttered as he straightened his sleeves again.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“That was fucking amazing!” Frank said on the ride back home. “How did I never hear about this until now?!”

“Shut the fuck up, Frank! You were totally freaking out when you saw us all dressed up in your room,” Bob nudged Frank with his shoulder which forced him to make impact with Mikey’s bony one, uhm ow. ( _Damn Ray for calling shot-gun!_ )

“Well, Bob Bryar in a flowery dress, who wouldn’t be freaking out?! I thought I fell into a portal to another dimension or something.” Frank jabbed Bob with his own elbow.

“And what? Gee decked in maid-drag didn’t freak you out, too?” Ray asked.

“Nah, I was kind of expecting that.” Everyone laughed while Gee flicked each one of them off.

Much too soon, Frank was back home and climbing over Bob, making sure to jab him with his knees, to get out of the car. He wasn’t expecting Gerard to stop the car and get out as well, though and hinted as much with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I forgot my backpack in your place.” Gerard said.

Once inside Frank’s room it wasn’t difficult to find Gerard’s backpack sagging sadly in a corner of Frank’s room.

“Thanks Gee, this was a really awesome birthday, uhm, tell the rest of the guys that, too.”

“Yeah, I will.” Gerard ruffled through his backpack and took out a school-binder with a bedraggled red bow in the center of it. “Here, it’s not much, but it’s a birthday present.”

Frank’s eyes widened as he opened the binder and he took in the simple ink portrait of him playing his guitar, Pansy. It was undeniably him, he had his favorite cardigan on, was cross legged on the floor, face serene and half-smiling. He looked pretty amazing.

Gerard scratched the back of his neck, “Well yea, I always thought you looked the most, uhm, comfortable and confident in yourself when you play guitar … not that you don’t usually, er,” Gerard said hurriedly, “just more so when you’re playing, I think.”

Frank finally looked up at Gerard, still decked out in maid outfit, frowning at the binder in his hands and he felt a tight squeeze in his chest. “I get it, Gee. It’s more than great. Thanks.” Frank smiled up at Gerard and just like sunrise Gee’s smile returned to his face.

“Well, the guys are waiting. See you in school, Frank.”

Later, after Gerard left and Frank washed the white face paint off and was in bed, his portrait carefully placed on his desk, he wondered sleepily why he could feel his heart beat so strongly tonight.


	5. November

Frank winced as he watched his school’s quarterback get tackled by a bulldozer of a rival football player. The metal bleacher under his ass creaked as he scooted closer to Gerard who was ignoring the game for a comic book.

“Remind me again why we come to football games, Gee.”

There was the sound of a page being turned and then, “because we are here to support the band.”

“You mean Mikey, Ray, and Bob.”

“Exactly.” Another whisper of a page being turned.

The obnoxious trill of the ref’s whistle signaled the end of the first half and a quick look at the scoreboard announced Belleville behind by about a zillion points. _Go Tigers, go_ , Frank thought to himself. He unfolded himself a bit from the small ball of warmth he created by stretching his hoodie over his knees and hunching himself over them. He poked Gerard’s side, “Hey, your brother’s almost on.” Gerard folded his comic and placed it between his legs.

Honestly, going through the trial of watching the first half of high school football was worth getting to see the guys perform every halftime. And it was also nice, he didn’t try denying, hanging out with Gerard on cold metal bleachers, huddled close but not touching and not really talking.

Frank shook himself from his thoughts and resumed watching the Belleville band walk onto the field. Ray was the easiest to spot with his unyielding hair breaking free in clumps under the tall band hat he was forced to wear. The music started. Some song from _Fiddler on the Roof_ Frank thought, and he giggled as he watched Mikey’s robotic, stiff movements as he moved into position for some diamond pattern the band was displaying.

Bob was his favorite to watch, though. Constant Bob always with his percussions, looking fierce even with the band hat, but he moved with a grace that always struck Frank as odd because it was big, gruff, climbable _Bob_ carrying them out.

At the end of the band’s performance and much annoying shouting from Frank’s end, Gerard nudged Frank to get his attention from his constant yelling of “ _Bob, I love you, you graceful motherfucker!”_

“Ready to leave, Frankie? Mikey will be getting a ride with a friend of his tonight.”

“Hells yes,” Frank said as he got up from the bleacher.

Frank was in the middle of persuading Gerard to treat him to some Starbucks - which really didn’t take much effort, cuz _hello, coffee_ \- when he heard it.

“What’s faggy Frances doing at football game?”

Blood running cold, Frank turned swiftly towards the voice and caught sight of Marcus. He quickly turned towards a frowning Gerard and Frank’s heart tried escaping out of his throat. Frank didn’t know what Marcus was doing here of all places, Queen of Peace wasn’t even the rival they were losing against today. Hell, Queen of Peace didn’t even _have_ a football team, fuck. And while, Marcus Bossworth wasn’t the cruelest of his bullies in Queen of Peace, he certainly was the loudest.

“What the hell do you want, Marcus?” Frank spat, feeling the hair on his arms and at the nape of his neck rise.

Marcus’s face contorted to a hurt expression that was marred by an oily smile. He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Just wanted to see how you were doing, Frances.” He raked his eyes over Frank, “I see you didn’t decide to renounce your ways.”

“Better until you got here, and fuck you.” Frank knew he was being egged on, but his mind was driving itself up a wall trying to figure out how to get Gerard the fuck away from this douche.

Marcus glanced at Gerard and tilted his head wonderingly, “I can’t believe you actually condone such unnatural behavior. _She’s_ an abomination.”

“What?” Gerard said as he took a threatening step forward, fists clenched.

But Frank was faster and spurred by a blinding anger that made him crack his fist against Marcus’s temple. A flash of pain burned Frank’s knuckles but it was quickly followed by satisfaction at the sound of Marcus’s cry.

Horrified murmurs of cautious onlookers were quickly overpowered by Marcus yelling, “you damn, bitch!” He glared at Frank with pure hatred and motioned to tackle him. But he was held back by a brave, burly man who held Marcus back while barking _break it up, break it up._

Frank was being dragged himself by the hood of his hoodie by Gerard. He twisted out of Gerard’s grip but stumbled after him in heavy silence when he was released. They stopped outside of Gerard’s mom’s red Pontiac.

Frank couldn’t look at Gerard, could only look down at the gravel beneath his feet and tried to hold back the dread. _This is it._

“What the hell was that, Frank?” Gerard asked in a clipped voice.

He still couldn’t bring himself to look at Gerard, but he forced himself to answer. “Just some jerk from my old school.”

“Were - were you bullied at your old school, Frank?” Gerard sounded confused and like he didn’t know Frank all that well anymore; Frank rarely divulged information about why he transferred to Belleville High. _Why? Why now? Why couldn’t I have had a little more time?_

“Yeah. Uhm, it’s the reason I was kicked out...they found out that I was—,” he couldn’t say it; he was a coward, “different.”

“Different,” Gerard repeated, Frank felt the heavy weight of Gerard’s hands on his shoulders.

_Tell him, tell him, Frank._

_Trust no one, Frankie._

Two voiced warred in his head until one of them won out and he was suddenly saying. “I got caught dressed in drag once by some students at my old school. I was just trying it out, but the school and everyone in it did not take well to it,” Frank shrugged. “Father Thomas told me I should renounce such tendencies but I didn’t see why I should. I mean, it’s not like its a bad thing, honestly. So I didn’t. And I was forced to leave once school ended. But school was hell after that with those close minded _friends_ of mine.” Frank said bitterly.

The hands on his shoulder squeezed tightly before pulling him into a warm embrace. “You’re very brave, Frankie.” Gerard said against his hair.

_No I’m not._

Frank allowed himself to hug Gerard back and just feel safe and warm, and not like a deceiver to someone who trusted him completely.

Frank pushed away and wiped a tear from his eye. “Uhm, let’s just drop this. Please, Gee.”

Gerard gave a soft smile, “Of course. I think I promised you a coffee, Frankie.”

On the drive to Starbucks, Gerard prattled about what he wanted to do after high school, but Frank couldn’t really listen. His mind wandered away from the confines of the car, and he foolishly thought of Pinnochio and not so foolishly, about how his mom might be getting a call from Marcus’s mother.

_Well, shit._


	6. December

December is freaking cold okay, which is why Frankie is wearing approximately seven thousand layers and five scarves, not to mention the snow boots and the long underwear that he has under his loose jeans and Misfits t-shirt. “You look like a freak, a particularly toasty freak, but a freak nonetheless; what the hell are you wearing?” Bob questions, reaching out to tug on the end of Frank's emerald green scarf.

“I get cold like, super easy dude, and I'm trying to stay as healthy as possible for the holidays because I really don't want to hear my father bitch and moan about my sniffling at the Christmas dinner table. Plus, old people pinching my cheeks and squealing about how 'grown up' I look is a lot easier to take when my head doesn't want to explode,” Frank says, muffled under his scarves but still pretty easy to understand.

Ray nods his head empathetically, “I totally get that, but seriously, Frank, I'm sweating just looking at you. At least get rid of the scarves or something?”

Frank sighs and starts to unwind his scarves (there are only two but it's still ridiculous, his grandma made them and they're pretty much as long as he is tall) just as Gerard and Mikey wander up to the group that had situated itself in front of Frankie's locker. “Hey Gee!” he grins, his scarves haphazardly loosened and the end of his green one dropping to the floor as he waves a bit in Mikey's direction, his cheeks blooming with color. Mikey raises an eyebrow in Frank's direction, “shut up, I'm cold, okay,” Frankie snaps, finally managing to unwind both scarves and clench them in his fist.

The thing is, Frank's totally telling the truth...mostly...he's leaving out the part that he's wearing seven thousand million layers because he's pretty sure his tits grew in size while he was sleeping and since his usual binder was air drying after yesterday’s wash, his normal sport's bra/biker shorts combo substitute didn't really seem to do much at all this morning about the two lumps of fat that decided that they wanted to grow and show off. Frankie was really counting on having been done with puberty too, because honestly, he wanted to save up money to buy a soft-pack but now at least forty dollars of however much money he gets for Christmas might have to go straight to buying another binder if his current one feels a bit more snug than it should when he tries it on later today. And Frank’s pissed about that, okay, because he’s had his eye on this sweet looking packer for _months_ and he’s been saving _so much money_ up to buy it and the needed harness and it’s a STP too, which is so fucking _rad_ , he wouldn’t have to sneak into the handicap bathroom to pee anymore if he was able to afford it!

“Cute,” Gerard grins, nodding at the ball of scarves in Frankie’s hands.

“Oh...shuddup,” Frank responds, shoving his grandma-made scarves into his locker and pulling out the books he needs for his morning classes, “God, you guys act like you’ve never seen someone properly dressed for winter before.”

“Of course we have,” Bob disagrees, wrapping a friendly arm around Frank’s shoulders, “We’ve just never seen anyone properly dressed for a _sub-arctic_ winter before; this is Jersey, not the North Pole, dude.”

“Hmm, he is the perfect size to be one of Santa’s little helpers,” Mikey snarks, dodging the fist that swings toward his shoulder.

“Dick move, Mikeyway, _dick move_ ,” Frankie grumbles trying to glare but unable to hide a giggle at the thought of himself all decked out in elf clothing as he slams his locker shut.

Gerard reaches over to mess up Frank’s hair, “Gonna buy you an elf hat, Frankie,” he grins.

“Fuck you, Gee,” Frankie grins back, unable to stop himself from pushing into Gee’s hand slightly because _yeah, apparently his hair’s a_ thing, _who knew_? Mikey does another stupid eyebrow wiggle in Frank’s direction and he knows, knows, that Mikey can probably read his mind or something because he has that ‘stop molesting my brother in front of me with your mind’ look in his eyes as he grabs for Frank’s hand and pulls him from under Bob’s arm. 

“Class awaits, Mikeyway! We have to show that periodic table who’s boss!” Frank crows, shaking Mikey’s hand off his own, only to toss that same arm around Mikey’s shoulders ( _and yes, okay, he is standing on his tip toes to do it, but fuck you!_ ).

“Way too excited about science, freak,” Ray laughs, shaking his head in amusement.

“Go ahead and laugh asshole, but you’re just jealous that science is my bitch and Mrs. Wright loves me,” Frank says sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes as he tugs Mikey toward the science wing and away from their friends.

“I really don’t think he’s jealous that you’re a total nerd!” Bob yells at their retreating forms, causing Frank to flip him off behind Mikey’s head as the first bell of the day rings, signaling that Gerard, Ray, and Bob now have five minutes to get to their first period classes...that just happen to be across campus in different directions. “Shit!” Bob groans as each boy looks at each other wildly, “see y’all at lunch!” With that the boys dash their separate ways to make it to classes that they don’t even _want_ to attend.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“I hate this school and I want to die,” Frank sighs pathetically as he slumps into his seat across from Ray, tossing his bag lunch down next to his head after he folds his arms across the tabletop and lets his head drop to his forearms with a painful sounding noise.

Mikey rolls his eyes as he sits down next to Frank and opens his lunch bag, seeing if there’s anything good in it, before looking at Ray’s confused face and explaining, “Little drama queen here got a B on his science pop quiz and an ‘ _A minus Mikey, do you know what this means? This means I fail at life!_ ’ on his book report in English. What he fails to realize is that a B on that pop quiz was the highest grade _in the class_ and he ruined the curve for _everyone_ so that if anyone should be complaining it’s _me_.”

“You don’t understand! After I got kicked out of Queen of Peace I promised my mom that I would do my best to pass each of my classes with flying colors, a B is not passing with flying colors, that is passing with lame colors that sit around and tell horrible jokes and then expect everyone to laugh at them,” Frank groans, pouting against his forearm before adding, “and don’t take my pudding cup you rat bastard, I need to drown my sorrows in something chocolatey and delicious.”

“Then stop pouting and grab it,” Mikey rolls his eyes and frowns because _he really wanted that pudding cup_ but it wasn’t exactly his so whatever, Mikey decides he’ll just steal Gee’s cookie when he’s not looking as he pushes the pudding cup toward Frankie, nudging his elbow with it until his shorter classmate snatches it from his hand and finally looks up from having his face smashed against his arm.

Frank slits his eyes at the bag sitting in front of Mikey and then reaches to grab the spoon’s handle which is just barely sticking out of the frayed top, “I don’t want anything else, so if there’s anything you want, you can eat it. I’m just gonna sit here and eat this pudding and mope as my life crumbles around me.”

“Why’s his life crumbling around him?” Gerard questions as he and Bob finally show up and sit around the table, Bob between Ray and Mikey and Gerard between Frankie and his brother. “It’s only been a few hours since he was all giggles and cocky science geek,” he continues barely flinching as Mikey grabs the cookie from his tray and takes a bite. Mikey makes a slight face at the fact that it’s a plain sugar cookie but still manages to inhale the whole thing in like three bites.

“He got a B in science and an A minus on his book report so he thinks his flying colors are just sitting around, telling terrible jokes, and expecting everyone to laugh at them,” Mikey mumbles around the cookie that he stuffed in his mouth, “Oh, and there was something about his old school? I’m not really sure, I stopped listening really, but talking about colors that tell jokes kind of tuned me back in.”

“...Okay...?” Bob says slowly, sounding just as confused as he looks as he pokes his...meatloaf...with his fork. He’s not actually convinced that it’s meatloaf though, because he’s pretty sure it just moved on it’s own, but it’s the only lunch he’s going to get so he kind of shrugs to himself and takes a bite anyway.

Frank rolls his eyes as he opens his pudding and licks the plastic top, accidentally making eye contact with Gerard as he does so and blushing slightly because he may or may not have started to notice that Gerard is like, seven shades of amazing. Fucking pretty boys and their awesome personalities. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” Frank gripes, dipping his spoon into the chocolate deliciousness and almost moaning at how good it tastes (because it’s coming up on _that time of the month_ okay, and chocolate _anything_ and Frank are like peanut butter and jelly when that comes around).

“Frank, seriously, an A and a B are awesome grades, you should be proud!” Gerard smiles, reaching over to mess up Frank’s hair like he had earlier in the day, but just managing to miss because this time Frank sees it coming and ducks in time to dodge it. “Congrats,” he continues, letting his hand fall to Frank’s shoulder instead and squeezing lightly before letting go as the rest of the guys echo his statement.

“...Thanks,” Frank mumbles, trying to fight off the blush that he can feel starting practically in his _toes_ , holy crap.

Ray’s eyes light up, like they always do when he has an idea that is either going to be the best thing to ever happen or the worst mistake anyone could possibly make, and he announces, “We have to celebrate young Frances’ epic win in style!”

“Dude, no, what have I said about calling me Frances?” Frank snaps, eyes flashing in warning as he panics internally.

Rolling his eyes, Ray replies in a monotone voice, “To not do it, only your mother is allowed to make such a grievous error because she birthed you.”

“Exactly, _Raymond,_ so don’t be a tool,” says Frank as he takes another bite of his pudding in an attempt to keep his mouth mostly shut because, _holy crap_ , he hasn’t been called Frances in school since...well...since he got kicked out of that good old school of God by those _wonderful_ “loving children of God” and it’s really unsettling.

“Who the hell uses ‘ _tool_ ’ as an insult anymore, dude?” Bob laughs around his last bite of the school’s supposed meatloaf, raising an eyebrow in question.

Scowling, Frank responds, while waving his spoon in the air, “You’re a dick, _I_ still use tool as an insult, it’s a perfectly _viable_ insult, Bobert! In fact, it’s the best insult in the _world_ , you are just too much of a _tool_ to realize it!”

Mikey rolls his eyes at Frank’s outburst and addresses Ray, “How exactly do you recommend we celebrate Frankie’s ‘epic win’?”

“A party of course! Full of movies and drunken frivolities as far as the eye can see and the liver can handle,” Ray announces loudly, drawing the eyes and attention of people sitting near them because if the words ‘party’ and ‘drunk’ are mentioned anywhere in or around a high school you can guarantee people are going to be nosey.

“What're you lookin’ at?” Mikey questions the nearest group, causing them to look down at their own food, embarrassed that they were caught eavesdropping. “Whatever, we can't do it this weekend though, right Gee? You're going to that SVA potential student thing.”

Nodding, Gerard swallows the bit of Frank's pudding that he managed to scoop up with his finger while Frank was distracted, “Right. I leave tomorrow morning for the city, and I get back Sunday afternoon, so you guys can still party I guess, just have enough fun for me too, yeah?”

“What? No, we're not gonna celebrate _without_ you, Gee, that wouldn't be celebrating at all!” Ray crows, dropping a large hand onto Gerard's shoulder and squeezing with a smile.

“So you're going to New York for four days and you didn't feel like you needed to mention it to anyone? What the hell, man!” Frank points his spoon at Gerard accusingly, “You are a bad friend, hiding potential colleges from us and shit.” Looking between his depressingly empty pudding cup and the sticky finger that Gerard's trying to sneakily clean off on the sleeve of his hoodie, Frank frowns, “And also, finishing off my pudding? Not cool dude.”

“Sorry man, you just made it look so good,” Gerard laughs, “I couldn't help myself!”

Frankie wrinkles his nose and tries to hide his grin, “Dude, it’s chocolate pudding, it doesn’t need _me_ to make it look good, it does that all on it’s own. But, that’s not the point,” Frank grumbles, fighting off an untimely blush, “Don't steal my fucking food, ass wipe.”

Frank sticks the spoon in his mouth to clean it up as much as possible before he has to put it back in his backpack as Bob laughs and says, “Play nicely boys, it's just pudding.”

“You have no respect for the pudding, Bob Bryar, none at all. Respect my delicious pudding,” Frank warns, pointing at the blond with his spoon before sticking it into his backpack and making a mental note to actually grab it when he gets home so that it's not sitting at the bottom of his bag for days.

“ _Really_?” Mikey questions, raising an eyebrow, “You guys are really discussing pudding and ignoring the fact that Gee is _leaving_ for four days to go to the city while we're going to be stuck here doing horrible things like learning and tests. Could you be more lame?”

“ _How_ many character profiles do you have Mikey? Oh, what's that? Right, more than you should to be able to call someone lame, dude,” Ray laughs, reaching over to nudge Mikey's elbow.

“Wow Toro, harsh words from a dude with a fro,” Gerard teases back. “And Frank,” he continues sounding concerned, a large smile the only thing giving him away, “You seem to have a serious obsession with pudding. Is there something that you would like to share with the rest of us?”

“Nope,” Frank denies, “And if I did, well, I certainly wouldn’t share with any of you weirdos!” Frank sticks his tongue out at the group and grins as the bell signaling the end of lunch rings, the boys let out groans in stereo as the rest of the students around them do the same.

“Mikey, the history of the world makes me want to die,” Frank whines, bottom lip sticking out in a spectacularly exaggerated pout, “Say we don’t have to go!” Gerard gives Frank a look as he’s picking up his bag, “Err, I mean, what on _earth_ Mikey? How could you _say_ that? Class is _wonderful_!” the sophomore laughs, grabbing his own bag and standing as well, tugging on Mikey’s arm.

Ray and Bob laugh as they gather their own belongings, shaking their heads at Frank. “Nice save,” Gerard says, shepherding his younger brother and Frankie in front of him as they all walk out of the cafeteria. “Bob, you have U.S. History, right? Make sure these two shifty assholes actually make it to _their_ history class,” he pleads, pushing Mikey and Frank toward their blonde friend quickly before turning on his heels and dragging Ray toward their English class.

“This is why they used to sacrifice the first born male!” Mikey yells after Gerard, still managing to be heard over their loud classmates if Gerard’s middle finger in the air is any indication.

“They never did that, asshole, and you would _know_ that if you didn’t ditch your World History class,” Bob points out, tossing an arm around both of their shoulders and steering them toward the wing of the school that the history classes are held.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“...and that’s why I hate Spanish,” Frank announces, tossing his backpack onto the circulation counter in the library, rotating his shoulders to try and relieve some of the tension that built up throughout the day.

Jamia barely glances up from her Chemistry textbook, scribbling on a sheet of lined paper, as she responds, “Why exactly do you hate Spanish? You can’t just start in the middle of a sentence and expect me to know what you’re talking about.”

“I am half Italian and all Jersey, how the hell am I supposed to roll my R’s, Mia?” Frank questions seriously, leaning over to look at Jamia’s homework over her shoulder and wrinkling his nose in disgust. “And how are you not trying to burn this book, it’s obviously the work of Satan,” he continues, dropping down onto the seat next to Jamia with a sigh.

Looking up with an annoyed sound, she glances over at the male sitting next to her and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “How can you talk about burning a book when we are currently sitting in the library _surrounded_ by books? And honestly, Frank, rolling your R’s is simple, you’re just not trying hard enough,” she responds lightly, gesturing with a wave at the shelves of books around them.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Frank nods, completely ignoring her as he leans back in his chair and grabs a copy of the school newspaper, “You’re probably right. Anyway, what are your plans for winter break? That’s coming up soon, right? I can never remember if there’s a difference between private school and public school break schedules,” He questions, giving the paper a cursory look through before placing it back on the desk, unimpressed.

Jamia grabs her school planner out of her bag and flips to the current page, looking at the date, “Yeah,” she replies, “We go on break in like, two weeks, and we’re back on January third.” Tucking her planner back into her bag and finally closing her Organic Chem book, giving her homework up as a lost cause, she answers the rest of Frank’s question, “I don’t really have plans for winter break, I’m probably just going to lie around the house and do nothing to be honest. Hopefully, I mean, unless I end up getting a project or something over break which is likely because my teachers have been horrid so far this year. Christmas is kind of a big thing in my family though, seeing as we’re pretty religious and we have a lot of family here, so that should at least be a nice family day. What about you? What are you doing this holiday season?”

“Well, I’m spending the whole break up at my father’s house, so I won’t be having fun of any kind, sadly enough. Nothing but old relatives that want nothing more than to pinch my cheeks and set me up with their friend’s kid because we would be _so precious together,_ their words, not mine, and trying not to eat so much that I explode. So really,” Frank makes a face, smothering a yawn with his hoodie sleeve, “Nothing out of the ordinary for family time.”

Jamia rolls her eyes and lifts her legs onto Frank’s lap, “Lemme just go out on a limb here, you don’t like your dad’s side of the family?”

“Not so much,” Frank agrees, leaning back enough so that Jamia is unable to notice an obvious absence of a particularly important part of the male anatomy if she accidentally kicks him in the crotch, “They’re really...old school? Well, I don’t know if that’s the right way to phrase it, but they are _very_ into the traditional Italian Christmas and Christmas Eve, it’s all a bit annoying really. Usually I’m able to get out of going over there for winter break because I go during Thanksgiving, but not this year. I’ve been trying to avoid him ever since I got kicked out of Queen, ya know, but mom stood her ground when it came to me staying with him over break.”

“Ah, right, _that_ type,” Jamia wrinkles her nose, “My mom’s side of the family is like that, which makes Christmas dinner awkward because they’re so old school and religious that my cousin and his boyfriend always feel uncomfortable when they come around for dessert, especially since they know that a mere hour before Nana and Pops were discussing their ‘sins’ at length.”

Frank blinks, confused for a moment before it clicks in his brain what pronoun she used for her cousin, “Oh, your, uhm, your cousin is gay?”

“Yeah, he is, that a problem?” She asks, suddenly defensive, “You’re not gonna tell me how _wrong_ or _disgusting_ it is, are you? Because I get enough of that from my own grandparents.”

“No!” Frank almost shouts, shaking his head vigorously, “Of course not, I would never do that! In my opinion, you love who you love and that’s all that should matter.” Frank can feel his face pale after he says this, praying that he didn’t give his own thoughts away while denying his alleged homophobia.

“Oh, well, good,” Jamia nods her head, deflating slightly and letting her legs slide off of Frank’s lap, “I’m glad.” Glancing at the clock to judge the time left of their last class of the day, Jamia lets out a sigh of relief when she sees that they only have about fifteen minutes. “Oh! I almost forgot! I don’t know how much notice you need for these kinds of things, so I figure I’ll just tell you now. There’s a show on, uhmm....January fifteenth, that I would love if you would accompany me to, it’s for one of the best bands on the scene!” She announces, pointing a finger at Frank with such excitement that it almost stabs him in the eye.

“Uh, yeah, Mia, I don’t need a full month’s notice for a gig, but thanks? And anyway who’s playing, then, if they’re the best band on the scene?” Frank asks, laughing slightly to hide his confusion at the abrupt change of topic.

“They’re called PaperDoll Propaganda, and they are _amazing_ ,” Jamia answers, a smile lighting her face. “Their bassist, she’s just...if I could play the bass, I would want to play like her, her stage presence is unbelievable,” She continues as she starts to gather her homework, putting all of her paper back into her binder.

Frank makes a noise in the back of his throat, a nearly silent sound of acknowledgement, and then says, “Awesome, I’m probably gonna have to give them a listen before we go to the gig, huh? I hate going into a show practically blind. Where’d you hear about them?”

“Well,” She hesitates, zipping her backpack closed and tossing it onto her back with a groan, “My church friend Ian told me about them,” she continues, snorting out a laugh as Frank’s nose wrinkles in mild contempt.

“They’re not... _religious_ music, are they?” Frank questions, genuinely concerned that he might have to break his plans with Jamia, simply to avoid running into anyone from his old school that would enjoy going to religious rock shows and recognize him  .

Jamia gives Frank an exasperated look, “No, dude, they’re like, as far from religious as you can get,” She answers truthfully, just at the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

“Ah, alright, cool,” Frank grins, letting out an annoyed huff of air as he settles his backpack on his shoulders because he can feel the jerry rigged sports bra/biking shorts chest binder start to bunch and slowly slide down in the back. “Then I would be more than happy to accompany you, m’lady,” he smiles, thumbs hooking through his belt loops as a light blush appears on Jamia’s cheeks.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next day is just as trying and full of teachers droning on as normal, with the added bonus of trying to hide his phone under his desk as he reads and responds to the text messages that Gerard keeps sending him. During their first class of the day, Mikey had looked over as Frank’s phone vibrated against the tabletop and smirked when he saw his brother’s name across the screen, pointing out that Gerard has only been gone for a few hours so far and even he hadn’t bothered texting the older male. By the end of the day Frank had taken to hiding his phone when he was texting in front of Mikey simply because he didn’t want to deal with the other boy saying ridiculous things about _crushes_ and _pining after my brother, asshole, that’s sick._

“Frank, darling, could you at least pretend that you’re paying attention?” Linda sighs, waving a hand in front of Frank’s face while they’re eating their dinner that night.

“Huh,” He mumbles, lifting his eyes up from his phone where he was looking at a picture Gerard just sent, a jumble of paint brushes and ink, to look at his mom, “Sorry mom, I’m just texting Gerard. He’s in New York for the weekend! Isn’t that awesome? I mean, it sucks that he’s gone for this long, but it’s for college, ya know, so it’s totally understandable.”

“Oh, how long is he going to be gone, sweetie?” Linda asks, curious as to why her son is acting like he’s not going to see his friend for months.

Typing out a quick reply to Gerard, Frank sets his phone on the table next to his dinner plate before responding, “Only until the weekend, he left this morning and he’ll be back on Sunday, so four days in all.”

“Well then, you can go an hour without texting him while we’re eating dinner, can’t you?” She questions, raising an eyebrow at her son as he flushes pink.

“‘Course,” He responds, eyes flicking guiltily toward his phone as it vibrates against the wood, alerting him to a new text. “Sorry mom,” Frank apologizes again, taking a bite of his dinner before he continues, “How was work?” Linda smiles at him and jumps right into a story about one of the women she works with, her story managing to take up the rest of their time eating, leaving Frank to clean up the plates once she stops.

“You’re the best son a mother could want,” She says seriously, brushing a gentle hand through Frank’s hair as he’s standing at the sink, rinsing the plates off.

Frank bites his bottom lip to stop from tearing up as he finishes the last plate, leaning into his mom’s hand for a second before pulling away, “You’re the best mom any daughter-turned-son could want,” he says just as seriously, before chuckling wetly, rubbing his eyes with his hoodie sleeve.

“Go text Gerard back, I know you want to,” Linda says, nudging Frank’s shoulder with her own, “I can handle drying the plates.”

Frank nudges her back, “Thanks, mom,” he says, drying his hands off on a tea towel before practically skipping back to the dinning room to grab his phone off of the table, grinning when he sees that he has three unread messages, all from Gerard.

_so wut r u up 2?_  
this food sux omg i want my moms food this crap makes me want 2 kms  
o wat its food time 4 u 2 huh? prob y ur not answring txt me back kk 

Frank can feel his cheeks heat up, phone slipping in his damp palm, as he responds ‘ _hey! srry, i was eating and mom told me 2 pay attn 2 her, apparently i wasn’t listening 2 her closely enough lol’_ hitting send as he drops onto the couch, eyes not focusing on the television in front of him. The rest of the night is spent chatting with his mom, watching shitty reality television, and texting Gerard until Linda stands up and yawns, wiggling a hand in his direction.

“Frank, bedtime now, Gerard might not have school tomorrow, but you do,” She points out, gesturing toward the stairs and waiting until Frank is up and on his feet to turn the television off. “I love you, sleep well,” Linda murmurs, leaning in to kiss her son’s cheek as she passes him on the way to her bedroom.

“G’night mom, love you too,” He responds as he hides his own yawn behind his hand and shuffles into his darkened room, flinching when he flips the light switch and it causes him to temporarily go blind. “Ugh,” He groans, dropping face down onto his bed after closing his door behind him, blindly searching for his cell phone charger as his face is buried in his pillow. With a sigh, Frank plugs in his phone and methodically gets undressed, avoiding looking anywhere but at his pajama shirt once he pulls his binder over his head and folds it, placing it carefully on top of his dresser before hurriedly tugging his shirt over his head and wiggling out of his jeans, deciding to just sleep in his boxers as he crawls under his covers.

_Sleep well Frankie text me l8r kk? wanna tell you all about art school weirdos_

Frank lets out a nearly silent squeak as he reads Gerard’s text, eyelids heavy as he types out a response before dropping off into sleep.

 _Sweet dreams Gee can’t wait for your stories :D_  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Friday sucks on an epic level. Frank wakes up feeling like he is _dying,_ his cramps are so bad that he wants to do nothing but curl into a ball and cry. He knows he has to go to school though, so he does, struggling into his clothes and following Linda to the car, swallowing two Midol dry on the way and whining about how life isn’t fair. “You’ll live,” Linda says, pulling up out front of the school, reaching over to squeeze Frank’s knee gently, “Love you and have a good day.”

“Love you too, ma,” Frank mumbles, wincing as he gets out of the car and shoulders his bag, being careful not to slam the car door when he closes it behind him, spotting Mikey standing by the front doors to the school. “‘Sup man?” Frank grunts, falling into step with Mikey as they head toward his locker. To make his day worse, Frank keeps checking his phone every five minutes or so, his hormones making him simultaneously want to cry and punch something every time he notices that there are no new messages from Gerard, regaling him with tales of crazy art school people. He floats through the day, mind foggy and cringing whenever a cramp flares up, his Midol losing its effectiveness by the time lunch rolls around, and counts the minutes until he can get home and curl up with his heating pad and his headphones.

As the bell rings, signaling the end of his last class, Frank waves at Jamia as she leaves and slowly packs his bag up, stomach cramping painfully as he pushes his chair under the desk, a whimper forcing itself past his clenched jaw. “Frankie, ‘sup with you today?” Mikey questions, Frank’s eyes widening in shock at his friend’s ability to sneak up on him.

“Nothin’, I just have a stomachache today, it’s fucking shitty,” Frank answers, jerking his head toward the door and following Mikey as he leads them into the hallway. “Plus,” Frank starts, staring resolutely straight ahead as he tries to figure out what to say, “Gee hasn’t...he hasn’t texted me today and I don’t know why. It’s shitty because I don’t know if I said something last night that freaked him out.” Frank tightens the scarf around his throat and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets as they walk out of the front doors and he sees his mom’s car idling at the curb.

Mikey reaches over and shoves at his shoulder, “Bro, don’t worry about it. You know Gee, he’s probably just distracted by the pretty colors of art school or whatever. He’ll text you when he realizes people outside of his art world exist.” He raises an eyebrow slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You miss your boyfriend already?” Mikey teases as they reach Frank’s ride, Frank’s cheeks, already pink from the cold, reddening further.

“He’s not my _boyfriend,_ ” Frank hisses, hand resting on the handle to his mom’s car door. He pauses, opening the door and tossing his backpack to the footboard, waving to his mom before he hisses, barely above a whisper, “And you are a tool.” Mikey just raises his eyebrow again and snorts, leaning down to wave at Linda before squeezing Frank’s shoulder and turning to leave, tossing a wave over his shoulder as he walks in a steady pace in the direction of his house.

Frank drops onto the passenger seat with a slight groan, arms wrapping around his middle after he struggles to put his seatbelt on, “So, how was your day?” Linda questions, watching her son curl around his midsection with a slight frown. Frank lets out a pathetic moan and presses his head to the window, repeating the word _boyfriend_ over and over in his head as he listens to his mom hum along to the radio playing in the background.

Friday night’s a quiet affair, Frank thinking about Gerard and how he’s _still not texting him_ and Linda watching him closely, making sure he eats enough and then sending him straight to bed with the heating pad and a reminder to turn it off before he falls asleep almost as soon as his plate is clean. Frank takes another Midol before shuffling to his bedroom and shucking his school clothes to change into his pajama shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, falling into bed and curling around the heating pad, turning it on to it’s highest setting with a sigh. After a half hour, and a few riveting games of Bejeweled on his phone, his cramps start to ease up enough that he can feel his eyes closing, his blinks becoming longer and longer the more relaxed he becomes. Frank rolls over onto his stomach, turns the heating pad off, and grabs his phone, sending a text to Gerard before he can talk himself out of it.

 _Hey asshole, where were u 2day? hope it was fun at least_  
miss you x  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Frank’s weekend is spent curled up in bed, cursing his bio parts as well as pretty boys that don’t know how to use cell phones, and daydreaming about said pretty boys and their stupid faces that Frank is pretty sure he wants to kiss. By the time Monday dawns Frank is exhausted, but cramp free, but he’ll take what he can get and he shuffles into the bathroom to shower and get ready for school when his mom knocks on his door, waking him from a not-so-restful slumber. “If you need me, all you have to do is call,” Linda says gently as they pull up to school, Frank’s hair hanging limply in his eyes because he couldn’t find the energy to blow it dry.

“I know, ma,” He sighs and opens the door, managing to lever himself out of the car and grab his bag without difficulty, taking a deep breath and waving to Linda before closing the door gently behind him. “It’s just Gee,” Frank mumbles to himself, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping his eyes on the ground as he walks to his locker, the group’s centralized meeting point in the mornings.

He’s the first one to his locker, which isn’t unusual for a Monday morning, but also gives him enough time to trade out the books he needs and to make a quick get away, deciding to hide in the library until the first bell. 

He manages to avoid Gerard until just before lunch when he’s grabbing his lunch from his locker. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against his closed locker door, waiting for the hallway to clear out. “Hey Frankie,” A voice rings out, startling Frank out of thoughts of artist’s hands and shy lips, his eyes flying open in surprise.

“Gee, hey,” He forces a grin and leans into the hug that Gerard wraps him in, feeling his cheeks flush with heat as his face is pushed into Gerard’s neck, his eyes widening.

“‘m so sorry, Frankie! I meant to text you the whole time I was gone but that second day I dropped my phone into a can of turpentine, can you believe that? I had to get a new phone as soon as I got home yesterday, and I meant to text you _then_ but I got this great idea for a painting and I had to get it onto canvas as soon as I could. Next thing I knew it was eleven at night and _way_ too late to text you,” Gerard rambles, holding Frank at arms length, holding his gaze. “What’s wrong?” Gerard questions, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, “You look like shit, are you okay?” He lets go of Frank’s shoulder with one hand and presses his hand to his forehead, trying to check for a temperature.

Frank clenches his jaw and jerks back, breaking away from Gerard’s grip, “Thanks asshole, just what every boy wants to hear,” he snaps, stomach clenching tightly, “I’m fine.” Looking away from Gerard he sees that the only other person by his locker is Mikey, leaning against the locker next to his with his arms crossed.

“Your stomach still bothering you?” Mikey questions, his eyes flicking between his older brother and his best friend, a confused shine to his eyes.

Frank huffs out a breath and agrees, “Yeah, you know what, it is. I think I’m going to go to the nurse and see if I can lay down in there during lunch.” With that he adjusts the shoulder strap on his backpack and leaves, headed toward the nurse’s office and missing the wounded look Gerard shoots at his back.

***

“Frank, honey,” Linda starts, turning her head to look at Frank as he slumps down into his seat. “I have no problem picking you up from school if you’re actually sick, but you seemed fine this morning. What happened between then and now?” She questions as she starts the car, putting it into gear and hitting the gas.

Frank pushes his cheek against the glass of the window, biting his bottom lip before responding, “I just don’t feel good, that’s all.” He’s silent for the rest of the ride home, stomach knotting anytime he even _thinks_ about the older male he left behind at school, managing to drag himself from the car to the couch once they pull up outside of the house without too much hassle. Linda doesn’t pry, knowing that Frank will open up in his own time, but silently deciding that if her son doesn’t open up before dinner she’s going to force it out of him.

“Okay, that’s it,” Linda snaps, slamming a fork down into the sink, having just cleared the table from dinner during which Frank was more reserved than ever, “I love you Frankie, but you can’t expect me to pick you up from school and not tell me why!”

Frank leans against the counter and folds his arms, refusing to look at his mom when he admits quietly, “I saw Gerard today.”

“You--you made me pull you out of school because you _saw your best friend_? Are you actually serious? What am I missing here, Frances, I would really like to know,” Linda practically growls, grabbing Frank’s chin with a gentle hand and making him look at her in the eyes. “Tell me,” She pleads, hating that her son is keeping secrets from her.

“I lo--like, I _like_ Gerard, and I didn’t know what to do, so I panicked and Mikey asked if my stomach still hurt so I just agreed and next thing I know I’m in the nurse’s office and she’s calling you to pick me up, and I’m _sorry,_ ” Frank chokes out, tears rolling down his cheeks causing him to swipe at his face with a hand harshly to get rid of the moisture.

Linda feels her heart break at her son’s tears, “Oh honey, no, it’s fine, I just hate when you don’t tell me things,” she coos, wrapping Frank in her arms and petting his hair, shushing his attempts at apologizing. “Gerard is lucky that you like him, you’re a catch, he’d be lucky to date you,” She says quietly as Frank’s sobs quiet down.

“How am I supposed to date him when I can’t even tell him what I _am_?” Frank disagrees, hands fisting the back of his mother’s t- shirt, speaking into her shoulder.

“You are a wonderful boy, and you’re going to be a wonderful man. You’re my son and I love you, and I will love you, forever and a day. If he can’t see how amazing you are he doesn’t deserve you anyway,” Linda says, pressing a kiss to Frank’s forehead, keeping her lips against him as she whispers that he can go to bed, get some sleep, and see everything with a different perspective in the morning.

Curled up on his bed an hour later, Frank grabs his phone and types out multiple texts, refusing to send them, but saving them to his drafts, just to prove to himself that he can get the words out, even if he can’t send them.

_Hey Gee srry about 2day i was an asshole i missed you so much_

_Gerard, hey, i just...i want you to know that i like you_

_U r just so gd pretty why would u do that to me?  
Fucking missed you, Gee, don’t leave again kk?_

_I can’t stop thinking about you_

_I love you_


	7. January

“D'you wanna come over after school? Mikey, Ray and I are gonna start a new campaign in D&D, it'd be cool if you wanted to join up with us,” Gerard asks, poking at the mysterious mound of food on his plate that is claiming to be mac and cheese but looks more like...well, not mac and cheese.

“I would, but I already promised Jamia that I'd go home with her today, we're just gonna hang out, I think maybe go to a gig? I’m not really sure, I just know that she hasn’t stopped talking about this gig for weeks” Frank replies as he too pokes at his lunch, frowning at the wilted lettuce and single cherry tomato that is the school's excuse for a salad.

“Oh,” Gee mumbles after a particularly vicious stab at the gelatinous orange-yellow goop on his plate, “sounds fun.”

Frank opens his mouth, about to respond, when Ray Mikey, and Bob finally show up, carrying their lunches. “I can't believe you nerds are starting _another_ campaign, seriously, didn't you guys _just_ finish the last one? Frankie, tell me you're not teaming up with them, please, I really need to find friends that are less lame,” Bob states, having overheard Gee’s question to Frank and taking his spot between Mikey and Ray. “...and maybe friends that don't lose track of time while they're creepily stalking a certain clarinet player and drag unsuspecting Sophomores along,” he finishes, reaching over to poke at Ray's hair as Ray's face blushes red.

“Don't worry Bob, Frank's hanging out with _Jamia_ today so he's not going to be campaigning with us, so you have at least one normal friend,” Gerard grumbles, huffing out a breath and putting down his spork, giving up the 'mac and cheese' as a lost cause and picking up the only slightly more edible oatmeal cookie to take a small bite out of.

Mikey gives Frank a look that he can't quite decipher as he leans to bump his shoulder against his brother's, “That's better for us anyway, Frankie would just get pissy if he had to be an orc or something again, fucking Napoleon complex.”

“It’s not a Napoleon complex when you literally only let me be short characters, asshole! I fucking _hate_ orcs!” Frank snaps, taking a vicious bite of his own cookie. “Besides,” he mumbles around the edge of the cookie, somehow managing to not spray crumbs everywhere, “You and Gee probably already have the good profiles, and I’m still trying to figure out how to develop my _mage_ , thank you very much, so I have, like, the shittiest profile imaginable.”

“Don’t know why y’all insist on playing that ridiculous game; maybe crawl out of Gerard and Mikey’s basement every once in a blue moon?” Bob announces, reaching over to steal a bite of Gerard’s mac and cheese and then proceeding to make a face in disgust.

“Oh, and go with you wherever it is you go after school?” Gerard questions, tilting his head to rest on top of Mikey’s where it’s resting on his shoulder.

“No,” Bob says quickly, “definitely not with me!”

“If I didn’t know you any better, Robert, I’d think you were having some type of clandestine meetings with some strange person like our dear Frankie is with his Jamia,” Ray laughs, reaching to punch Frank’s shoulder with a loosely curled fist and completely missing the look of utter horror that crosses Bob’s face before he quickly covers it up with a laugh and a look of mild amusement.

“Mia and I aren’t having _clandestine meetings_ okay, we’re just _friends_! God, I’m not even--she’s _nice_ and _my friend_ , that’s it!” grumbles Frank, slouching down in his seat and crossing his arms across his chest tightly while surreptitiously trying to scratch a particularly _itchy_ spot underneath his binder. Ugh these are the moments when layers _suck_.

“Yeah, anyone that wears a grandpa cardigan like Frankie here does just isn’t capable of having clandestine _anything_ ,” Mikey says lightly, trying to get Frank to see that he, at least, thinks he’s telling the truth, while he lifts his head off of his brother’s shoulder.

“Exactly,” Frank agrees, pointing at Mikey once he’s given up on ridding his itch, “I’m obviously not cool enough for clandestine meetings, and normally I’d be annoyed about you calling my _stylish_ cardigan a grandpa cardigan but you’re helping to prove my point so I’ll let it slide.”

“Well then, grandpa, what are you and Jamia going to do tonight?” Mikey questions, reaching over to steal a piece of Frank’s cookie.

“Dick, we’re gonna watch movies and gorge on junk food until her parents get home, and then go to this gig that she heard about, just like I already told Gee,” he answers, frowning at the cookie thief and managing to stuff the rest of his cookie in his mouth at the same time because he’ll be _damned_ if Mikey’s getting more of his cookie after he just called him _grandpa._

Scrunching his nose in disgust as he braves a last bite of his lunch, Gerard questions, “Who’re you going to see anyway? Like, what’s so great about this band that you and Jamia _have_ to go see them?”

“Honestly,” Frank starts, trying to talk around the last bit of cookie in his mouth, “I have no idea who they are...I think they’re called like, PaperDoll something. I just remember there being paper dolls involved really.” Frank shrugs and wipes his face free of crumbs, “All I know is that one of Jamia’s church friends told her about them so I’m really hoping that they’re not religious.”

“How many times do I have to tell you Frankie, Ian has good taste in music and you’d do well to remember that not all church-going teens are like the dicks at your old school,” a female voice pipes up from behind Gerard, causing mostly everyone at the table to startle (except for Bob and Mikey who manage to wave while looking completely unaffected). “Hello boys!” Jamia grins, reaching out to ruffle Frank’s hair.

“Hey Mia!” Frank grins back as everyone else at the table echoes his greeting. He reaches out to grab her wrist and tug her closer so that he can wrap an arm around her waist in a hug, missing the look of anger that crosses Gerard’s face, “What’re you doing over here slumming it? Shouldn’t you be over there with your fellow scholar geeks?”

Jamia shifts and presses her hip more firmly into Frank’s shoulder, “Just coming over to say hi and to remind you that we’re gonna meet at my locker and leave from there for our evening of music and frivolity.”

“I know Jamia, I was just telling the guys about the gig, though I really can't remember what the hell they're called,” Frank admits shrugging his shoulders.

“PaperDoll Propaganda, how many times am I going to have to remind you?” Jamia laughs, pinching the side of Frank's neck with her nails, “And once again, I promise that they're totally up your alley; you'll love them, the guitarist is insane and the bassist owns that fucking stage.”

Perking up at the name, Mikey eyes Jamia with a new appreciation, “I've seen PaperDoll Propaganda live before too, they actually made me believe that not all local bands are complete shit, which was a life saving revelation,” he says, sounding as excited as he ever does, which is to say he sounds a little less dead inside than usual. “You remember, Gee? They have that bassist with the tattoos and the backbend thing, the singer's probably certifiable but he's crazy into being on stage,” he continues, nudging his brother with his elbow.

“Right, I remember......Lindsey something,” Gerard admits grudgingly, staring at the table in an effort to avoid seeing Frank's arm around Jamia.

“She's so amazing, seriously Frank, you'll be into their stage show even if you aren't into the music,” Jamia smiles, ruffling gentle fingers through Frank's fringe and causing Frank to wrinkle his nose and pull away from her grip, letting his arm fall to the surface of the table.

“You keep saying things like that, which implies that they suck, but I'll reserve my judgement until later,” Frank laughs, tipping his head back to look at the brunette as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I'll see you after school though, yeah?” he continues as her eyes flick over his head to the group of friends that she normally sits with, one of her friends waving to grab her attention.

Jamia hums, “Totally! We'll go straight to my house from my locker,” in agreement and ducks down to hug him once more before waving to the rest of the boys and heading back to her table.

Gerard grimaces and stabs viciously at his food once she's seated at her table, back to them and far enough away that he can't hear anything but a low hum of conversation. “Damn, Gee, what the hell did that macaroni do to you?” Ray asks after a particularly messy stab that results in fake cheese jumping from the plate to Gerard's not-so-clean black shirt. Gerard growls and swipes angrily at his shirt, seemingly ignoring Ray's concern.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hours later, after Frank and Jamia have successfully managed to worm their way to the front of the crowd surrounding the stage, Jamia grins and grabs onto Frank's hand. “PaperDoll is going to be _amazing_ tonight, seriously, I'm so stoked!” she shouts to be heard over the pounding house music, lips brushing slightly against Frank's cheek accidentally causing both of them to jump apart in shock and embarrassment.

“Awesome!” Frank shouts back, stomach flipping as he realizes that maybe hanging out and doing something that could be construed as a _date_ was probably not the best thing to do with a girl that his friends seem to think has a thing for him. “For your sake I hope they _are_ amazing because I will never trust your taste in music again if they're not,” Frank teases lightly, letting his hip bump into hers gently as the lights start to dim and the crowd roars in approval. As the band steps on stage Frank lets his eyes take in their crazy outfits and feels awe, his stomach clenching when he lets his gaze linger on the bassist, a woman that, if he could have felt comfortable in his bio body, he would want to be just like. Two songs in, he motions toward Jamia, signaling that he's gonna step back, and lets himself get sucked into the pit, dodging elbows and groping hands as he tosses himself around, losing himself in the pounding beat of the music.

“Frankie! Oh my _God_ that was _awesome_!” Jamia shouts, her arms wrapping around Frank's shoulders once they reconnect, Frank having fought his way past the departing crowd outside the venue to make it back to his friend.

“I'll admit, it was pretty great,” Frank agrees with a laugh, grinning at the smile on Jamia's face.

Jamia lets her arms tighten around Frank's neck slightly, an almost scared look on her face before she leans in and brushes her lips against Frank's, her eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. Frank, on the other hand, is silently freaking out, his eyes wide and hands flailing at his sides before he reaches up to push at Jamia's shoulders tentatively, detaching her from his mouth. “I—I'm sorry, _oh my God_ , I'm so sorry I didn't—I wasn't thinking,” Jamia chokes out, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, her cheeks bright red as she pulls away from the embrace.

“Jamia?” Frank questions confusedly, fingertips brushing against his mouth with wide eyes, “What...what was _that_?” he continues with a stammer.

Jamia leans back against the barrier, hands reaching up to cover her face, “The most embarrassing moment of my _life_ ,” her response is muffled slightly but still audible.

“Mia, it's not...it's not that I don't _like_ you, it's just that, well, I don't like you _like that,_ ” Frank mumbles, not quite knowing what to do with his hands as his friend stands in front of him, so embarrassed that she's shaking, and all he wants to do is give her a giant hug. “I—I'm not exactly _straight_ , or at least I'm not straight right _now_ because I kind of, uhm, I have feelings for someone else...? You're _wonderful_ though, Mia, seriously,” he finishes, finally letting his hand wrap loosely around Jamia's elbow, his own cheeks flaring bright red.

Letting her hands drop from her face Jamia groans, her eyes still squeezed shut, “That doesn't exactly make this better, Frank, because now I just made a move on my _gay_ best friend that I didn't even _know_ was gay until like, after I kissed you and _oh my God,_ you must be completely disgusted and horrified!” Jamia worries her bottom lip between her teeth, unable to stop blushing as she flails her hands.

Frank lets out a choked laugh, “I'm not _disgusted_ exactly, I mean, the kiss was lovely, I just...you're not my type so it wasn't exactly Earth shattering is all,” he manages to say, letting his hand grip her elbow tighten. “Plus,” he continues, letting his gaze drop to the floor, “the whole 'I'm into someone else' thing that I'm going through right now.”

“..... _Gerard_ ,” Jamia mumbles mostly to herself as she squints, trying to get a closer look at Frankie's face.

“Err, _yeah,_ ” Frank admits, arms crossing over his chest tightly and refusing to meet Jamia’s eye. “But maybe we can talk about this some other time? Maybe when we’re not all hyped up on adrenaline from the show?” he continues, jaw twitching slightly as his mouth snaps shut.

Jamia lets a small smile light up her face, “Of course, love, just know that I still adore you, no matter what,” she says, gently laying a hand on Frank’s tense shoulder and squeezing.

Frank tried aiming a relieved smile at Jamia, but the tightness of his jaw told him it was forced and fake, and a voice in the back of his head whispered _liar._


	8. February

Okay, so maybe buying a Valentine for the girl he recently turned down due to the fact that he has a mildly debilitating crush on his best friend _wasn't,_ in fact, the brightest idea he's ever had, but really, Frank has no one to blame but his mother for raising him to be such a nice person. Frank looks at the small stuffed bear in his hands, barely able to hold back a grimace at the tiny pink shirt it's wearing declaring that Jamia is _Beary Wonderful,_ and he realizes that the best course of action would just be to chuck it as far away from his person as possible and pray that no one witnessed him tugging it carelessly out of his locker. “Hey Frankie, what's _that_?” a feminine voice questions, startling Frank into shutting his locker harder than he had intended.

“ _Jesus,_ Mia,” he gasps, fingers tight around the bear's soft fur as he turns on his heel to face his friend, “Try not to kill me, yeah? I'm too pretty to die this young!”

Jamia's face lights up in a grin as she sees the garish bear held in his hands, “Did you really get _him_ a V-Day present? Finally ready to proclaim your love from the highest tower and whatnot?”

“Huh? Oh, _God_ no, Jamia! You know that I can't— _he_ wouldn't be interested in the slightest anyway,” Frankie denies, wrinkling his nose as he and Jamia walk in-step toward the cafeteria. “This is actually for you, I mean, I figure every nice girl should get a Valentine's Day gift from someone they love, even if it is from their _gay best friend,_ ” he finishes up, the last few words whispered only loud enough for her to hear over the din of the crowded hall as he hands the bear over with a grin firmly in place.

She bites her lip, letting a thumb smooth over the soft fur of the stuffed bear's snout, as she admits, “This is pretty great, actually, I got you something too...? But, I mean, I wasn't sure if it would be weird to give to you after the whole, ya know, _concert incident_ that neither of us shall talk about. If you'd be okay with it though, I'd love for you to have it, I really have no use for it and it'd just be going to waste if you don't have it.”

Frank lets out a laugh and bumps his hip against Jamia's lightly as they finally step into the cafeteria. “Not weird at all, besides, I gave you a gift first so really you're like, obligated to give me something in return, that's written down as a rule somewhere I'm sure,” he says with his most serious face on, causing Jamia to break out into giggles.

“Okay, alright, I get it, you just want the present,” she huffs out, tugging Frank to a stop by his hand, “I have to go back to my locker to get it though, so I'll just pop over to your table and give it to you there, is that okay? I'd hate to interrupt deep, philosophical _boy talk._ ”

“Yeah, that's fine,” Frank answers truthfully, already standing on his tiptoes to be able to see his table where Gee is seated and very obviously trying to block out the cooing happy couples around him by burying his head in a comic. Frank drops off of his toes and gives Jamia a quick hug and a wave before he's fighting his way through the dozens of plastic seats separating him and the only person that he really wants to see on Valentine's Day in the first place. “Hey, hey, _Gee_ , hey,” he says breathlessly, folding himself over Gerard's shoulder, careful to not let his bound chest touch the older male's back, as he looks at the impeccable art gracing the pages of whatever obscure story Gerard is reading this week.

Frank can feel Gerard's shoulder shake with a repressed laugh as he carefully folds his comic shut and slides it back into it's protective sleeve. “Hey Frankie,” he responds, not nearly as drab and dull as his appearance would lead one to believe he would sound. Frank drops down onto the seat next to the older boy and starts in on the more interesting parts of his day, pausing and restarting his stories once Mikey, Ray, and Bob join them. Just as Mikey and Frank are telling of a particularly dumb classmates response to a _really_ simple question Frank feels a feather light touch on his shoulder, alerting him to a presence behind him.

“Mia! Hey, what's up? Where is it?!?” He questions, bouncing in his chair excitedly and missing the glare that Gerard is sending Jamia's way, the male's spork stabbing mechanically at his chicken nuggets as Jamia flashes a kind smile in his direction.

“I hope you like it,” Jamia says kindly, handing the neatly wrapped present over to her overly hyper friend with a grin. She raises an eyebrow in quiet amusement as Frank rips into the wrapping paper, scraps flying everywhere on the table, Gerard's frown deepening as Frank lets out a decidedly non-masculine gasp of joy.

“Jamia, I've wanted this strap for _months_ , how did you know?” Frank questions reverently, his fingertips brushing lightly down the guitar strap that he'd been eyeing for months in the music store while trying to decided if a strap was more important than, well, a strap- _on_ was for a man in his position. The strap-on always won, no doubt about it, but the guitar strap was like that old fling that you just can’t stop going to visit, even when you knew it was past the time that you should have shelved them and cleared them from your mind.

Jamia allows herself a little blush before she answers lightly, “I saw you drooling over it that one day we went to the music store together, I think you were buying strings? I’m not really sure. I went back the next day and asked how much it was and, well, it was actually on sale so it wasn’t all that expensive when I managed to grab it but, yeah, it’s the thought that counts and all that, right?”

“I am in love, I’m sorry Jamia, but you’re not the woman in my life anymore, this baby right here is,” Frank answers, eyes still locked on the strap resting on the table in front of him. “Thank you so much!” he shouts, reaching an arm out blindly and squeezing Jamia tightly to his side, turning his head to rest against her stomach for a second before pulling away, finally looking away from his Valentine’s Day present.

Jamia pets his hair like she would a dog, “You’re welcome, darling, seriously,” she responds, pushing away from his tightly gripping arm and giving a cheerful wave to the table as a whole. “I hope you boys are having a lovely Valentine’s Day as well?” She asks kindly, eyes dancing between the four other males at the table. 

Gerard grunts and Mikey rolls his eyes, smiling slightly and telling Jamia about the letter he wrote for Alicia, cheeks flushing as Jamia coos at him, yet he allows her to tell him how adorable that was and how it was a great present because it really came from the _heart._ Ray just sighs wistfully, eyes drifting slightly to the other side of the room where Christa, the pretty clarinet player, is seated with some of the other band members as he denies that he has any plans for the day, refusing to acknowledge that the day is at all different from any other day on the calendar. Bob mumbles something about maybe going to the music store after school but other than that says nothing else on the matter, refusing to look up from his mound of mashed potatoes. “Well boys, it’s been fun, but I should go eat something now. Text me later, Frankie?” Jamia says, a few minutes of silence later, finally realizing that she’s not going to get much in way of conversation out of this particular group of boys while Frank’s still lost in his own little world.

“Huh? Oh, right, yeah, of course Mia, and I’ll see you later today too! Once again, thanks for this strap, seriously,” Frank shakes himself out of his stupor at her voice, grin bright and shining as he looks up just in time to see her wave and head off in the direction of her usual lunch spot. Frank tunes into the rest of the table just in time to watch Gerard stab a chicken nugget so viciously with his spork that one of the prongs breaks off and ricochets off of Mikey’s glasses and into the great beyond. “Dude, what’s your problem? I’m pretty sure that processed shit is already dead and buried, no need to torture it,” he says, confused at the anger showing on Gerard’s face.

Mikey, having recovered from the plastic prong of a spork _flying toward his face,_ looks between Frank’s confused kicked puppy face and Gerard’s pissed at the world face and asks the question that he knows his stupid brother won’t, “So, you and Jamia, huh? How long has that been going on for?”

“OH! No, we’re just, we’re just friends and that’s it! She’s awesome though, one of my best friends, other than you guys of course,” Frank responds quickly, eyes moving from focusing on the poor chicken nuggets to Mikey's face. After a few shrugs and murmured apologies for jumping to conclusions the rest of the boys, excluding Gerard who is still massacring his lunch but isn't really frowning anymore, start discussing how Valentine's Day is obviously a fake holiday and anyone that takes it seriously should be taken out back and shot. The empty spaces where Gerard would chime in with a smart ass comment are overbearingly loud to Frankie, and they start to grate on his nerves. “C’mere for a second, yeah?” Frankie questions all of the sudden, grabbing Gerard's sleeve and pulling him outside of the cafeteria because there are some conversations that shouldn’t be overheard by high schoolers dunking tater tots into ketchup and this is probably going to be one of those times. 

“What do you want, Frank?” Gee asks, tugging his hand from Frankie’s.

 Now Frank, well, Frank’s confused as to why Gee’s acting like a jealous boyfriend but he can’t exactly state that without making it sound like he obviously wants it to happen so he just says, “Seriously Gerard, she’s a great girl but, I mean, you would know if I was dating someone, ya know. I just, I spend almost all of my free time with you--guys, with you guys, where would I find the time to have a secret girlfriend?” 

Gerard frowns at him and then turn his eyes to the ground, “I don’t know Frankie, I just got upset when I thought you were keeping a girlfriend a secret, I mean, we’re your best friends, you don’t have to keep anything a secret from us.”

 “I would never keep that a secret from you!” Frank didn’t like the aftertaste those words left on his mouth so he kept on talking, “Honestly, there’s only one person I like, and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t even like me back, so clandestine meetings are nothing that I’m going to have to keep secret anytime soon,” Frankie says, reaching out to touch Gee’s shoulder with his hand, shaking him a bit. 

“They’re stupid then, Frankie, you’re amazing and anyone would be lucky to date you!” Gee announces, sounding genuinely offended on Frank’s behalf, and trying to stop his cheeks from flushing a bright pink. Biting his bottom lip Frankie can’t even begin to hide his grin when he replies,

“Thanks Gee, you’re not too bad yourself.”

“So... who is this person you like?” Gerard asked in a small voice and shuffled in place a bit.

Caught between excitement and nervousness, Frank shuffled a bit in place too. “ Uhm, okay, maybe that can be my secret for a little while longer…Like I said, it’s mainly unrequited and I’m pretty sure I’ll get over it soon enough.” Frank bit his tongue to keep from blurting _it’s YOU, you oblivious motherfucker, you that I love._

Gerard finally glanced up from his ratty sneakers and with a sad smile said, “Yeah, maybe you will. Well, if you ever want to talk about it...”

Frank only nodded. They walked back to the cafeteria in silence, each lost in their thoughts.


	9. March

Frank's not actually certain he can remember how many drinks he's had since he and Mikey got back from raiding just about every gas station within a ten block radius for their green St. Patrick's Day treats, but he's not about to complain when Mikey somehow manages to top him off without spilling even a drop of the nasty green beer on the floor. “Mikey, _Mikey,_ ” Frank slurs, balancing precariously on the tips of his toes to try and hook his chin over the taller boy's shoulder, “I'm maybe a little bit in love with your asshole brother,” he admits, pressing the cold tip of his nose to the warm patch of skin behind Mikey's ear.

“I know, you're not exactly sneaky and shit,” Mikey agrees, wrapping an arm around Frankie and rearranging him so that they can walk more easily back into Gerard's room where they have a constant loop of the cheesiest leprechaun themed movies they could find playing on the shitty, practically black and white, television that's sitting on Gerard's cluttered desk. “You're also really drunk, so shut up,” Mikey says all friendly like as he guides Frank to sit on the edge of Gerard's bed before letting himself drop to the floor, stretching his legs out and settling in to watch whichever movies is set to play now.

Frank snorts and finishes off his cup before responding, “ 'm not drunk, 'm just...well whatever, 'm not drunk so shut it.” Blinking and looking around the room for the first time since he sat down he hums and questions Mikey, prodding him with his socked toes, “Where's everyone else? Thought they were gonna be _fun_ and hang out with us today?”

“Bob said he’d be here in a few minutes, he’s bringing someone with him I think, and Ray and Gee wanted to stop by the video store to see if there were any other movies they thought we’d watch,” Mikey answers, batting at the foot that’s now digging into his side. “Don’t worry, tonight will be a blast,” he continues, laughing as Frank drops his cup to the ground with a groan and falls back onto Gerard’s uncomfortable bed.

***

By the time everyone else shows up in Gerard’s room Frank has sobered up just enough so that he’s got the pleasant feeling of floating but none of the horrible nausea or slurring that comes with being wasted, and he’s learned that big macho man Bob is actually, well, big _gay_ macho man Bob, and he happens to have a thing for pretty brunette boys with hips that are _out of this world_. “Really though, Spencer Smith, you have lovely hips, I don’t know why you’re with this oaf of a man,” Frank teases lightly, reaching out to push against Bob’s shoulder with a grin.

“I like a challenge,” Spencer laughs from where his head is resting on Bob’s thigh, hand resting against Bob’s knee as Bob’s hand cards through his hair.

“More like you don’t understand the meaning of ‘no’, Spence,” Bob says sounding strangely serious as he tugs on Spencer’s earlobe lightly.

“Ohhh, normally I’m all for ‘no’ actually meaning ‘no’ but I don’t think you have room to complain Bobert, you got this mighty nice fella here to date you by saying no,” Gerard says from around the mouth of the bottle of food color dyed vodka he’s taking a swig from, grimacing as he gets a sip that’s more green food coloring than alcohol.

Ray looks confused as Gerard passes him the bottle, “Who the hell says ‘fella’ anymore you weirdo. That stopped being cool when your _grandmother_ was our age,” he points out before pressing the bottle to his mouth and tipping it back, throat working to swallow the harsh alcohol and drawing Frank’s eye to the Adam’s Apple that he was so scornfully born without.

Suddenly the room feels smaller somehow, what with the _happy_ gay couple across the circle from him and the man that he loves sitting one person away, all Frank can think about is how _wrong_ he is as he reaches across Mikey to grab the bottle from Ray, finishing it off with a few of the largest sips he’s ever taken of something that strong. “What?” He grins widely, his cheeks burning with the effort of faking it, “I was thirsty and you losers were taking too long to pass it,” Frank finishes, tongue darting out to capture a bit of spilled vodka from the corner of his own lip.

***  
“And then....and then.... _shit_ , dude, I totally spaced on what I was saying,” Ray slurs from his spot on the floor, head pillowed by his own hoodie rolled into a ball to protect himself from the possible diseases crawling around on Gerard’s nasty floor.

Frank hiccups a laugh from where his head is pillowed on Gerard’s stomach, the two of them having crawled up onto his bed after Mikey and _SpencerandBob_ moved upstairs to pass out, leaving Frank with a highly talkative Toro and a dark and mysteriously silent Way as well as a slowly forming headache. “Talkative Toro, just pass out already, _oh my God,_ ” Frank pleads, partially to get the room as quiet as possible but mostly because he’s comfortable, Gerard’s fingers twisting through his hair, and he wants to spend peaceful time with Gee, not loud and rowdy time that he can get almost any day of the week.

Gerard’s stomach moves slightly under Frank’s head as he laughs. “Frankie, you’re wonderful,” he says finally after Ray seemingly took his advice and fell asleep, his snores echoing quietly throughout the room. Gerard’s fingers dance lightly over the back of Frank’s neck and trace around the shell of his ear, a shiver rolling up the younger boy’s spine at the action. “You’re _really_ wonderful,” Gerard murmurs almost silently as Frank shifts on the bed, moving so that he’s eye level with Gerard.

“I—You’re wonderful too, Gee, I mean it,” Frank breaths out, one hand resting on Gerard’s chest lightly and the other holding his own head up as he carefully licks his lips, silently praying for what he’s been wanting for months to happen.

Gerard lifts his head and presses his lips almost chastely to Frank’s, their noses bumping and grins making anything other than a peck almost impossible at that moment. “Want you, Frankie, wanted you for so long,” Gerard mumbles against his grin, Frank’s cheeks flaring red as Gerard goes in to deepen the kiss, his tongue teasing lightly at his bottom lip before Frank gives in and lets his lips part, the alcohol still working to take any of his doubts and fears away as he finally gives in.

Frank feels his breath hitch in his chest as Gerard pulls him closer, their chests lining up and their legs tangling together for a moment before Frank remembers _oh, right, I’m not exactly going to get hard_ and has to pull away, leaving space between their groins as Gerard tangles a hand in his hair, tugging and forcing a groan from his parted lips. “Gerard, God,” Frank whimpers, nearly silent, as he presses sloppy kisses to Gerard’s neck, teeth digging in once quickly before Gerard tugs him back to his mouth. They make out lazily for hours, hands never once straying below the waist and fingers trailing softly over sides and backs, the only exception being a teasing ass grab that left Frank equal parts breathless and embarrassed before he leaned down and bit quickly at Gerard’s earlobe, a move he noticed got quite a reaction from the older male.

“Frankie,” Gerard croaks out, voice wrecked, as he feels his eyes start to flutter shut of their own accord, “ ‘m so tired now,” he continues, his jaw cracking on a yawn as he finishes his statement.

“Me too,” Frank agrees, slipping to the side and curling against Gerard, his head resting in the crook of the taller boy’s neck, nose pressed to the hinge of his jaw, “Sleepy time now,” he mumbles, his eyes sliding shut as he hears Gerard hum an agreement.

Frank falls asleep faster than he can ever remember doing in the past, a grin plastered on his face and the scent of Gerard all around him.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Frank wakes up it’s to the sound of blood pounding in his ears and the overwhelming urge to either vomit or cry.

“ ‘m never drinking _again_ ,” a voice mumbles from above him causing his pillow to move and his head to quite possibly implode.

“Shh,” Frank pleads lifting a hand above his head to try and find the source of the evil sound, “ ‘m _dying_ , have some respect,” he groans as he finally remembers that it’s Gerard he’s using as a pillow, his eyes widening in shock as he remembers just what happened the night before as his hand manages to land awkwardly, covering most of Gerard’s mouth and nose. Scrambling to sit up Frank manages to arrange himself in a cross legged position, facing Gerard, without feeling like he’s going to hurl so he counts that as a win. Frank bites his lip as he watches Gerard wrinkle his nose in annoyance as he’s waking up, having to fight off the urge to laugh at how adorable the older boy looks. When Gee’s finally sitting up against his headboard Frank shifts onto his knees and shuffles closer, close enough that he can see when Gerard’s eyes clear themselves of the sleep fog and focus on him sharply, and starts to lean forward to kiss him.

Or at least, that’s what would have happened had Gerard not furrowed his eyebrows and asked, voice thick with sleep and confusion, “What’re you doing?”

Frank can feel his stomach twist as he redirects and kisses Gerard’s cheek instead, his face crimson with embarrassment, “Nothing, just saying good morning!” Frank replies, grinning wide and forced as he feels his world slowly crumbling around him when he realizes that Gerard doesn’t remember anything from the night before and he remembers everything. Frank’s going to be stuck remembering what it’s like to feel Gerard’s hands and mouth on him while Gerard gets to go about his normal day, not knowing what it’s like to have everything he wants right at his fingertips only for it to be jerked cruelly away.

Frank stays for breakfast, because it’s the polite thing to do, and pushes his freak-out to the back of his mind as he and the rest of the boys dig into stacks of pancakes that Spencer so graciously made, his heart breaking a little every time Gerard smiles at him so unaware of what they did the night before that it hurts like a physical _thing_.

Frank knows that boys don’t cry, but well, when he gets home later that afternoon he thinks that he’s never heard that girls that are actually boys don’t cry and so he does, he sobs into his pillow. He lets it all out because he got a taste of what he wanted and he is pretty sure that he is never going to get another chance at feeling the way he did last night, wrapped around Gerard.


	10. April

A harsh, dry cough wracks Frank’s lungs and it takes a couple of deep breaths to get his breathing back to normal. A warm hand pats Frank’s shoulder gently and Gerard’s worried, “are you okay, Frankie,” is so close to his ear that he can feel the puff Gerard’s breath.

Frank waves Gerard’s concern away and moves away at a more personal-space-respecting distance. “Don’t worry, Gerard, just might be getting a cold is all.” Frank says, trying to focus back to _The Crow._ Mikey had left them halfway through the movie, waving his phone at them and saying, “Alicia” in lieu of reason for his departure. And now all he could think about is that since what happened on St. Patrick’s Day, on the tail end of April, this is the first time Gerard and Frank have been alone together.

All he could think about was kissing Gerard just as desperately as they had what now felt like an eternity ago, and then punching Gerard in the face for fucking forgetting. _Who the fuck does that?!_ Frank blinked and realized that the movie credits were already rolling. His head was thrumming with an incoming headache.  
“Gee, I’m going to head back home. My head’s starting to hurt now, think I need some sleep.” Frank said as he looked around for his discarded Chucks.

“Oh, well, I hope you feel better soon, Frank. Take some NyQuil or something,” Gerard fretted. After hearing Frank’s stories about the consequences of his shitty immune system, Gerard gained a mask of worry whenever Frank so much as sneezed more than twice in a row.

Frank was tired, but not just physically. All the lies, secrets and longing he carried were weighing him down. Only he didn’t know how to make it go away. He tied the last shoelace and made his way to the door with a pajama-clad Gerard shuffling after.

His hand stayed on the doorknob longer than necessary, seconds passed by. “Frank?”

“Gerard,” Frank began but stopped when he saw in his mind’s eye a young girl with a Coach bag filled with junkfood, leaving his house and ruining everything.

“Frank?” Gerard asked again.

“Never mind, I’ll see you in school, Gee.” Frank left without turning back.

******

Frank got home and went to his room without greeting his mom. He undressed in front of the mirror, throwing his clothes in the direction of the dirty laundry pile in the corner. When his binder came off he could feel a release of pressure off his back, shoulders, and lungs; he took a deep, fortifying breath and also threw his binder in the same direction as his clothes.

With a critical eye, he assessed himself: his breasts were getting bigger and might even go all out for a size “C” by the time puberty was done with him. His shoulders were also getting a little bigger but still had a soft, small delicacy to them that he hid with layers. But layers wouldn’t hide the fact that he wouldn’t get an Adam’s apple, and there was only so many years that his lack of facial hair could be excused with words like “baby face” and “not my time yet, dammit”.

How much longer could he go on being the person he wanted to be?

His head buzzed angrily and he finally chucked off his jeans and flopped onto bed with only his boxers on.

He slept instantly.

*****

The gentle prodding of a sun ray beaming through his window woke Frank up. He grunted and aimed his back to the annoying sunlight. The back of his throat felt dry and his eyeballs hot when he closed them.

A rustling sound in his room forced him to lift his heavy head up. His mom was in his room, dirty clothes draped across her arms.

“Mom,” he croaked, “think I need some medicine. Don’t feel too good.”

“Oh, honey,” A cool hand touched his feverish forehead. “We should have some antibiotics left from the last doctor’s visit. Hopefully that will clear this up soon.”

She administered the medicine, made him eat a packet of saltine crackers with water and then tucked him back into bed.  
***

The dry throat and hot eyeball feeling was gone when Frank woke up, and so was his weekend. He still felt an echo of a headache and a bit achey, but nothing too bad to keep him from school. Finals were looming near and Frank wanted that perfect ‘A’ record to fucking shine in his report card.

As Frank gathered his clothes for the day, he realized his couldn’t find his binder. He searched through his memory to remember where he put it and recalled the pile of dirty laundry, but a quick glance at the corner it was last in revealed an empty space.

“Mom,” Frank called as walked to the living room in his bathrobe, “Have you seen my binder?”

Frank’s mom was sitting on the table with her hands rubbing her face anxiously. She looked up at Frank with a sad, pitiful expression before tilting her head to the sofa. And there was Frank’s chest binder draped on the back of the couch … or at least it was a smaller looking, ruined version of his binder. Frank picked it up, smelling the burnt smell of fabric as he did, and felt the material rough and frayed.

“Oh, mom.”

“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to go in the dryer and I wasn’t really paying attention to what I was shoveling in there.” His mother could look at him and scratched at their small dinner table.

Frank couldn’t stand to see her so upset. “It’s okay, mom,” he calmed, “I’ll just use my old binder. I still got it.”

Except, after many months of use that stretched the material and with his new growth in breast size the biker-short binder was not concealing a much as it should. He had thirty more minutes to get ready and was running out of options.

He dug up the ace bandages from his bathroom cabinet and got to work quickly. It was a bit tight, but it would have to do until he got home and created some other type of binder that was more comfortable. As a temporary solution it would have to do.

Two tank tops, large button-down shirt, and baggy pants later, he followed his mother to school.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Besides the chafing from the bandages that Frank felt throughout his morning classes, he was doing well. He was as normal as usual, complaining about the education system to Mikey during classes, setting up a meet at the usual music shop in the weekend with Ray and Bob, and even the stilted conversation he had with Gerard about checking out the horror movie feature at the cinema was becoming normal, unfortunately.

So Frank was not prepared for the attack during lunch.

“I’ll be back, I’m gonna go take a piss.” Frank announced.

The first cough, another dry, hacking one came on his way as he was passing the boy’s bathroom. The second was more violent and more forceful and strained against the restriction set by the bandages. It left Frank breathless and lungs aching. He stumbled through the bathroom door and placed his sweaty forehead on the tile of the wall, trying to calm his breaths.

_Oh no, oh no, oh fuck. Not now, not here, please God, no._

But he felt another cough bubbling, expanding across his chest straining against his tight, tight chest, trying to escape through his throat but unable to make the journey. Black spots dotted his vision and he slides to the floor.

A series of small coughs finally escape but they do little to relieve anything.

“Frank? Frank!? Oh my God, Frank what’s wrong.” The figure above him is a bit blurry, but he’d recognize Gerard’s voice anywhere.

And all Frank could do is claw at his shirt, trying to get some air, trying to loosen up the knot that his lungs have become. The lack of air is finally making him light headed and difficult for him to understand the frantic sound of Gerard’s voice.

All his sensations feel hazy, as if they are muffled with cotton. He thinks he feels someone tugging on his shirt; he thinks he feels the faint sound of buttons popping out of their seams; he’s being tugged at and prodded, as if he were a tricky knot that needed undoing...he thinks he feels cool air accompanied by cool, fast fingers on the heated skin of his chest.

The last thing he feels is like he’s unraveling before he closes his eyes and faints.


	11. May

The meeting between Principal Wentz and Linda and Frances Iero was scheduled for the after school hour of five p.m. to suit Mrs. Iero’s double work schedule.

Frank waited for her on the outside steps of the main school entrance with Mikey, Bob, and Ray after school. None of them talked for a long while, lost in their own thoughts and imaginings of what would come from the meeting. Less and less students passed them by as the minutes stretched towards half an hour, until it felt like they were the only students left in Belleville High.

Frank couldn’t help searching for Gerard in the distance, knowing it was stupid to think he would be here at this time when he hadn’t heard from him in little over a week. He didn’t think his heart could hurt anymore, but when it finally settled into Frank’s head the Gee wouldn’t be showing up a wave of sadness proved that his heart had a lot more room for pain.

“There’s your mom, Frank.” Mikey said. Everybody got up from the steps and turned towards Frank. Bob reached and squeezed Frank’s shoulder firmly, “ You text me once this is done, Frank.”

“Yea, me too,” Ray said giving Frank a reassuring squeeze of his own and the following Bob down the rest of the steps to say hi to Frank’s mom.

Mikey gave Frank a quick hug. “Things will be okay, Wentz is decent people. Look out for me when you get out, I should be here.” He left to go join Ray and Bob.

Frank and his mother entered the main office. Frank was surprised by Mrs. Stratta’s relaxed smile as she kindly told them to wait for a little while. Obviously, she didn’t know Frank’s secret yet, or else she wouldn’t be looking so kindly at him.

As with any moment of waiting Frank has had since he was discovered over a week ago, his mind couldn’t help recapturing the events.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The first thing he could remember after fainting was just a fragmented piece. A sharp light shining at his eyes and a sense of relief that he could breathe and wasn’t dying. The blurry profile of the school nurse, Ms. Pewter, came into view and he felt a soft touch massage at the soreness underneath his breasts.

A shot of fear rushed through him and he grabbed at the massaging hand of the nurse.

Her voice soothed his fears, “It’s okay, Frances. It’s okay, EMT is on the way.”

Frank tried to tell her no, but his tongue felt thick and dumb in his mouth.

“Shh, don’t worry, we’ll cover you up.”

Frank wanted to ask about his friends, about Gerard, but she kept shushing him when he tried to talk.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sometime between waiting on the bathroom floor for EMT to arrive, Frank had fallen asleep. Because the next memory of consciousness, was waking up to the white walls of a hospital room and the t.v. was on some news station.

“Baby?” His mother was immediately at his side and she framed his face with soft hands. “Oh, Frank, swear I lost a couple years of my life when I got the call.”

“What happened?” Frank didn’t really care to know what had caused the attack, but he couldn’t make him ask the real question of what was going to happen _now_.

“You have pneumonia, sweetie. And all the coughing you were doing was really working against those bandages and all those layers you were wearing; your weak lungs were having enough trouble bringing in air …” She trailed off, “If Gerard had not--”

“Gerard?”

“Yes, he found you baby and was the one who took off, well, what needed to be taken off, “ Frank felt himself flush, which was stupid considering his situation.

“Does he hate me?” He asked very softly.

“I haven’t seen him since at all, Frank to tell you the truth,” his mom said gently.

Frank decided he didn’t want to ask anymore questions.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that evening, after his mom had gone home to shower and pick up Frank’s pyjamas, the door was shoved open and Mikey, Ray, and Bob walked in. Frank waited for the door to open again to reveal Gerard but it stayed close.

_Oh._

“How are you feeling, Frankie?” Ray asked.

“Fucking shitty. So, do you guys hate me now?” Frank kept his eyes locked on the phony smile of the anchorman on the screen.

“Fuck you, hate you,” Bob spat, “Dude it was surprise not gonna lie finding you out like that. Really wish you could have found a way to tell us sooner,” he finished sullenly.

Ever the optimist, Ray couldn’t help but say, “at least we know now and Frank is okay.”

Frank closed his eyes and let out a groan, “the whole school knows now, fuckin’ shit.”

Finally, Mikey piped in with a, “no, they don’t.”

Frank’s eyes popped open and he finally looked at Mikey, “what do you mean they don’t? You mean the ambulance came and picked me up from school and none of the students realized I am a guy in a girl’s body with my tits hanging loose?”

Mikey winced, “First of all, dude, I love you but I don’t wanna hear about your tits hanging. Second, Gerard and Miss Pewter were the only ones who saw, no one else got in that bathroom while you were unconscious and the covered you up well when they picked you up. So for all the school knows you just got really sick. Worst rumor out there is you got herpes or something.”

Bob glared at Frank, “ What you thought we’d tell or something?”

Frank sighed and knew Bob had a right to be angry, each one of them did, and he was still waiting for them to say their piece and be done with him...like Gerard obviously is.

_Don’t go there._

“The last time someone found out about me, it didn’t take long for the entire school to find out and for me to expelled. So, sorry for imagining the worst, when the worst kinda already happened.”

Mikey quirked an eyebrow, “So that’s the real reason you transferred to Belleville, you got kicked out?”

“Yep, turns out Catholicism has a problem with the transgendered, go figure.”

Everyone took a minute to soak that piece of information in.

“Those bitches,” Ray finally concluded. The rest nodded in agreement.

The guys didn’t leave until visiting hours were over an hour and a half later, and promised to return back with more edible food than what they served in the hospital the next day.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jamia visited on his second stay at the hospital. And Frank was struck by the realization that she didn’t know his secret. Yet at least.

He let her talk for a while until he finally gathered the courage and told her everything, Queen of Peace, the plan to cross dress full-time, what happened with ace bandages and fucking pneumonia. When he finished, Jamia’s mouth hung open for a bit before she clicked it close and got up to force the sheets off of Frank.

The thin shirt of his pajama top did little to hide his boobs from Jamia’s eyes.

“I—I—kissed a _girl._ ” She finally said.

“And you liked it?” Frank offered weakly and didn’t try correcting her that technically she only kissed a girl’s body. _Goodbye Jamia._

“Woooah, what a mindfuck” She shrilled and then paced a bit. Finally she stopped and eyed Frank, “Why didn’t you tell me, Frankie?” 

“When, Mia? After lying to you for so long and still finding it hard to trust anybody with my secret to not ruin my newly created life by not telling?” Frank stared at his hands against the white of his bed sheet, “I didn’t know how...and I couldn’t let myself ruin it by taking the chance and trusting someone again with it. Especially not this time, I had too much to lose, much more than at Queen of Peace.”

Jamia stared at Frank and walked back to his side, “It hurts you know? Realizing someone you trust lied to you because he didn’t trust you enough.” Frank winced but nodded his agreement.

Jamia’s hand closed around Frank’s, “ But, you did tell me now when you didn’t have to. And I guess that counts for something.” She smiled at Frank and squeezed his hand tightly.

***

In the four days Frank was forced to stay at the hospital, Gerard didn’t stop by once. And when he finally got the balls to ask Mikey why his only response was a simple, “give him time, Frank.”

On the Friday of his release Frank got a text from Mikey:

_Wentz want to talk 2 u & ur mom._

“Well, fuck,” Frank said.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Principal Wentz is ready to see you now,” Mrs. Stratta said.

The first thing Frank noticed was that there was no model of life-sized crucified Jesus, though he didn’t know why he’d be expecting one. Principal Wentz’s office was decorated with art and a couple of vintage band posters.

The second thing Frank noticed was Ms. Pewter and Vice Principal Stump were in the room as well.”

Frank and his mom took a seat.

“So!” Wentz began his usual expressive face was composed, “you and your mother orchestrated this whole thing, am I right so far.”

Frank was ready to deny his mother any involvement from what happened, but she beat him by saying, “Yes.”

Wentz nodded, “Care to explain, Frances... or is it Frank?”

Frank licked his dry lips. “It’s Frank, sir.” Wentz only nodded again. Frank explained for what felt like the thousandth time everything from realizing his self-identification as a man to the events that transpired at his old school.

Once he was done, Frank wished for a drink of water but didn’t dare to get up and get some from the cooler in the corner of the room. He waited, along with his mother.

“Frank and Mrs. Iero, the matter in which we discovered Frank’s secret came to a shock to all of us in the room, yourselves excluded. While I cannot fully condone the manner in which you lied in your documents for enrollment to school, I can understand why you did so. My order as Principal of this school is that you resubmit honest documentation when you enroll into this school next year, Frank, and I advise that you seek help from a counselor specialized in helping you transition, I will give you information on that before you leave.” Wentz leaned back on his chair with a satisfied smile on his face.

Frank couldn’t believe it. “I can stay?”

“Yep, that’s what I said.”

“And I can still be a guy.”

“That’s what you are, aren’t you Frankie, boy? Oh, only I, Ms. Pewter, and Mr. Stump know about your secret and we intend to keep it that way. We don’t want the board to get into this,” Wentz shuddered. “If you need help with anything, Frank, just seek one of us.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Frank and his mother walked out of the office quietly.

“Did that really happen?” Frank asked.

“It seems so, baby.” She replied.

With that Frank texted each of the guys

_I’m staying!! :D :D :D_

“Frank, look.” Frank’s mother nudged Frank’s shoulder hard. He looked up from his text and saw Gerard waiting on the stairs outside of the school.

He greeted Mrs. Iero. “Do you mind if I take Frank home?” He asked.

“Not at all, Gerard. Frank give me those papers Principal Wentz gave you and I’ll see you when you get home.”

She left quickly.

“My car’s this way,” Gerard pointed, not making eye contact with Frank yet. Frank didn’t speak, he only followed Gerard to his car.

The silence was more deafening in the cramped space of the small Nissan. “I get to stay in school, as a boy too... uhm, Wentz will help me out and stuff.” He finished lamely.

“That’s great Frank,” Gerard said as he started the car.

“Gerard, wait,” Frank reached for Gerard’s hand but pulled back before he made contact. He took off his seatbelt to fully turn towards Gerard, “I can’t take a whole car ride of wondering whether you hate me or not.”

“I don’t,” Gerard answered quickly. “How could you think that?”

“What was I supposed to think with you avoiding me since what happened?!” Frank burst out yelling. “Sorry,” he said quickly after Gerard flinched, “sorry, I’m just so confused about where we are?”

Gerard let out a small laugh, “you’re confused? How did you think I felt that day? It was like...” he struggled to find the word.

“A mindfuck?” Frank supplied.

“In a way, yes.” Gerard drew in a deep breath and upon releasing it turned towards Frank and looked at him for the first time in a while. His eyes shone with the usual earnest manner he assumed but his jaw was set in determination. He voice was soft though, “ ‘Specially, when the guy you love happens to surprise you with having a girl’s body.” The admission was followed by flushed face and quick ramble, “Sorry, Frank, I just needed some time to think about how this would affect us and wrap myself around fact that even knowing what I know now I still love you because no matter what, you are still the you I fell for. But I didn’t know how to tell you, I guess I was scared, so I just avoided you more and then Mikey said I was being dumb and—”

“Wait, just wait.” Frank said. 

Gerard clamped his mouth shut and looked away. Silence engulfed the car once more, but Frank couldn’t be bothered with it when his mind was turning itself over with every word Gerard had said. A smile finally broke through Frank’s face and he was struck with an idea.

Frank reached for his cell phone in pocket, quickly brought up his saved draft text messages he saved from months and months ago and clicked send on every single one.

Gerard’s phone immediately began to vibrate.

He looked quizzically at Frank while he brought it out and opened the first message, and then the next, and the next...

“That’s how I’ve felt for you since December, Gee...so I kind of understand being too scared to tell someone everything.” 

Gerard still looked confused until he looked up to see Frank beam a smile his way, eyes shining with happiness. He reached for Frank’s shirt and pulled and Frank easily followed. There were no secrets between their kiss this time, and it was more wonderful than Frank remembered as he felt the warmth from his toes all the way to his fingertips. He hugged himself closer to Gerard, promising himself he’d never to let go of this.

When they broke apart they laughed out of joy. As Gerard started the car and drove it out of the parking lot, Frank laced his fingers with Gerard’s and said softly, “You’re my favorite person.”


End file.
